The Dogma of Vengeance
by angel1046
Summary: Left reeling from the tragic massacre of her family, Arilenia is forced to resort to running from the only home she has ever known with a man she barely knows. Enemies hunt her, allies hunt her. Concealing herself in the guise of a man, she joins the Grey Wardens with the hope of exacting revenge. Devastated, the hard-hearted noble's one hope from life is to bring another's death.
1. The Dogma of Vengeance, Part 1

Hey guys! Okay, so a few things you guys might want to know before reading this. 1) This is my first fanfiction/creative writing work EVER. That being said, criticism would be greatly appreciated! :) 2) This work is not going to be strictly cannon. There will be slight differentiations from the classic DA plotline. Nothing overly wacky, no worries. There will only be subtle changes; no major plotline overhaul. 3) I will try to do regular updates, so please tell me if you like it or not! Even if there is only one person that wants to read/for me to update, I will update just for that one person. :) Just send me a pm or review if you like it. Or if you hate it, I always need criticism. I will hopefully be able to upload several chapters a week, but I promise AT THE VERY LEAST one a week. Sorry about any spelling/grammatical errors, I do not have a beta! Oh, and I don't own anything related to Bioware or anything like that. All of it, unfortunately, belongs to some other very awesome people. Anyways, please enjoy!

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The little girl's breath came in sharp gasps as she ran with all her will away from her assailant, golden curls flowing behind her in long tendrils. The sun shone down in warm waves, caressing her face and urging her forward in her fleeing. Tender blades of grass stroked her bare feet as the earthy scent of dirt filled her nostrils. Moist earth embraced her feet as they dug into the ground. Her heart pounded in a cacophonous rhythm, clashing with the sweet songs of the birds. As she ran, she not only heard the deep breathing of her pursuer behind her, but felt his warm, moist breath on her neck.

He was dangerously close.

Just as another burst of adrenaline shot through her veins, she felt a pressing weight against her back, ending her flight and forcing her to the ground. Her icy blue eyes went wide as she helplessly witnessed the ground rushing towards her. Bracing herself for the inevitable impact of the ground on her face, she squeezed her eyes shut until she saw the soft glow of stars behind her eyelids. When instead of pain she was met with something soft and squishy beneath her, she cracked one innocent eye open. Surely it wasn't possible she had gotten away unscathed. What happened?

Shocked blue eyes met twinkling hazel ones as the girl's face peered into that of her feared assailant: Bryce Cousland, her father.

"Got you, Pup!" shouted the girl's father as he jumped up from the ground, spinning her around affectionately in the process. Her cheeks stretched out into a huge smile, giggles erupting from her lips. Her beauty, even at the young age of seven, rivaled the stars. Her golden locks resembled the sun, and her glacier-blue orbs were ringed with long, dark lashes. Alabaster skin contrasted perfectly with swollen red lips, deceiving those who did not know her into believing her to be the perfect cherub. Luckily for her, her angelic features disguised the willful stubbornness that her personality was almost entirely composed of. Her mother very much appreciated that disguise.

"My turn, Father!" she heard her brother, Fergus (or Fefe if she was the one addressing him), cry to their father in jest from across the field. She looked at her brother as their father placed her once again on her feet with the intention of giving Fergus some attention. She narrowed her eyes in slight suspicion at her brother's motives. That was her daddy. Not his!

_"Technically," _she told herself, _"he is Fefe's dad too." _

While this was true, she had always been her father's daughter and coveted any love that her father showed anyone else, though she supposed she could allow one who shared her blood to partake in her father's attention.

_"Oh well." _The voice in her head said not lacking whatsoever in the perfect amount of childish melodrama. _"Fefe is my brother after all!"_

This thought consoled her as she sat down once again in the lush grass of her land. The white hot sun shone down lazily on her from above, embracing her with warmth. She sighed contentedly. There was no place she would rather be. She gazed around, scrutinizing the various details of the land. Surrounding an open plain on one side was a forest, its dark recesses sheltering and comforting. Small flowers peeked through the soil, showering her surroundings in potent shades of reds, oranges, purples, and yellows and filling the air with their sweet scent. Castle Cousland could be seen standing proud, carved into a high rocky outcropping over the ocean. It looked over all of Highever, forever its silent guardian. Gazing around, her eyes fell on her brother.

Fergus resembled her little in coloration, though one would quickly hypothesize that they were siblings due to their shared facial features. Both siblings had the high cheekbones and the delicate features of their noble mother. Fergus's, however, were beginning to grow more masculine every day and unlike the little girl, unarguably had the nose of their father. She cocked her head, studying it. Man, was that thing a honker. This thought distracted her young mind and made her giggle profusely. At the age of fourteen, his limbs were growing longer and his body was becoming firm and broad. His jaw was beginning to be square and pronounced, with small speckles of stubble growing here and there. The fuzzy hairs on his face never ceased to bring her amusement. With his black hair and hazel eyes, she had a feeling that he was going to resemble their father greatly someday. Fergus doted on his younger sister, and she loved him with a ferocity that matched the stars above in abundance. They were more than brother and sister; they were best friends. She could turn to him with anything, and knew he would be there to catch her were she to fall. The two were inseparable.

Laying back into the soft dirt, recently warmed by the sun, she closed her eyes and listened to the murmuring of her father's and brother's voices. Oddly enough, even their voices sounded similar to her ears. Both were very soothing. Within moments, the soft voice of her mother entered into the conversation.

The incarnation of elegance and all things feminine, Eleanor was, at least to the girl's understanding, undoubtedly the most beautiful woman alive. Her blonde hair matched that of her daughter's, but was forever silky smooth and coiled with perfection atop her head. Her blue eyes twinkled with grace, wisdom, and understanding. Constantly poised and flawless, none even at court could criticize her mother. Unfortunately for the girl, such perfection did come with cost. Eleanor disdained anything uncivilized or dirty, which were two adjectives that almost always perfectly described her daughter. With speckles of mud and muck constantly found on her clothes, the little girl was anything but cleanliness and perfection. Unfortunately, this occurrence was almost a constant source of debate with her mother. During these debates, the girl sought every opportunity to run to her father, hoping he would take pity on her. He always did; he was such a big softie. Of course, Eleanor would find ways to reopen the topic the next time her mangy daughter came into view. Instead of taking into account the ways that the daughter of a Teyrn should and should not behave (constantly dictated to her by Eleanor), the girl much preferred riding horses, sword fighting, and causing overall mischief around the castle grounds. Needless to say, "these boyish activities were not suited for such a delicate young lady."

_"Delicate young lady. Right." _She gave a very unladylike snort at the words her mother had used the day before when attempting to coax her off of her Arabian, Abdullah. That horse, her sword, and her best friend, were the greatest sources of pride and joy to the child.

As she lay there dozing, her mind wandered to that of the topic of her best friend, Roderick Gilmore. Roderick, Fergus, and she had been best friends since before she could even remember. The three were more than friends; they were partners in crime. Fergus had been and probably always would be the master mind behind all their schemes. He concocted the plans, created excuses, and even supplied them with much needed supplies. At twelve, Rory was usually the muscle or, in unlucky cases, the scapegoat. With both brains and bronze being covered, one would come to the conclusion that the girl was not as essential to their operations, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, she played the most vital role of all: negotiator. With her charisma and charm, the trio could weasel themselves out of almost anything. Always stirring up more than their share of trouble, they were the constant exasperation of their nanny.

Roderick was orphaned as an infant when his father (one of her father's most expert guardsmen) was killed in defending her father from an assassination attempt. Not even a week had passed after his father's death before his mother committed suicide. Because of her father's brotherly love for Rory's father, he did not hesitate in the slightest before taking Roderick in to be raised with her at the castle. She was told that Roderick would become a knight someday, just like his father. Rory was going to protect her when she got older in the same manner that his father had protected hers.

Suddenly, the shocking thought of Rory somehow dying for her entered her young mind. However, before she could deliberate the thought any longer, she realized that she no longer heard the voices of her family from across the field. Only the gentle trickling of a stream and the soft hum of insects could be heard.

Confused and worried, she sat up, opening her eyes to a sky that was growing darker and more treacherous minute by minute. Rushing to her feet, her eyes scanned the perimeter for her family, to no avail. She bit her lower lip as it started to tremble and hot tears accumulated in her icy orbs. Finally, when she saw the retreating form of her father about to enter the gentle stream not far off, her heart stopped its erratic beating and the smile that was commonplace upon her face returned. Her heart grew even more assured when she saw the heads of her mother and brother on the other side of the stream.

She shouted to her family, but had even more trepidation fill her heart when none of them turned to look at her. She tried shouting again, straining her vocal cords with the magnitude of her cry. Seeing that this had no effect, she ran towards them in the hope of rejoining them.

Running the short distance to the stream, she was confused as it seemed to be only increasing in length. Her family grew farther away.

"_Faster!" _ She thought to herself. She had to be faster! Why was she not strong enough to catch them? A premonition that if her father crossed that stream she would be forever unable to catch him entered her mind. Suppressing the pain that now shot through her feet and legs like poison, she ran all the harder. Yet, even then she had a feeling it would be impossible. She could not stop him from crossing the stream, but Maker be damned if she would not follow him. Her gaze became fuzzy and distorted, images flashing through her mind as she ran. In her peripheral, she could see events, people, places all unknown to her. Years of memories penetrated her mind, making her dizzy. Her strides grew longer as the memories progressed. She felt the hair that tickled her shoulders slowing falling, reaching her lower back. The gown she wore lost its color and climbed up her thighs.

With lungs aching and heart feeling as if it would burst, she reached the edge of the stream. The crystalline waters that she remembered were now murky and dark. A crack of thunder resounded behind and above her, signifying that lightning was not far from striking her.

"_This is not right! It is not supposed to be like this!" _She thought, horrified at her changing surroundings. The sky was now completely black with swirling black mists polluting its surface. The once soft green grass had turned brown and brittle, cutting her white feet with each step she took. The gentle terrain was wrong somehow.

_"No, not wrong." _She thought. _"Corrupt.__"_ Glancing across the rapidly growing stream to her family, fears were created at the sight that met her.

The terrain across the stream was springy and green once again. Delicate birds danced in the sky, filling it with their harmonious tune. Frogs belted out their calls, and insects sung their finest melodies. The sun shone more brilliantly than she had ever seen it, caressing each one of their faces. Their faces, however, were where the problem arose.

They were, but were not themselves. Eleanor's once pale blonde hair was dull and gray. Mild creases were strewn across her face, and once vibrant skin had lost its sheen. Her father's jet black hair was now mostly white, peppered with the raven color in select places. Crow's feet now surrounded his eyes, where they were once only hinting at existing. Fergus… Fergus was a man. A full grown man. He now loomed over their father by at least three inches, and had a broad, barrel chest. His shoulders were wide and strong, and his arms rippled with muscle that must have taken hours of sword play and acrobatics to acquire. Fergus had his right arm around a young red-haired woman. He and this woman watched a young boy, who surprisingly looked much like Fergus, futilely chase after a high-soaring butterfly. All five of them laughed when the boy tripped, face-planting in the mud.

Nonplussed at the strange events taking shape around her, she made the mistake of looking down into the murky stream at her reflection. The sight that greeted her could not have disturbed her more.

The woman that stared back must have been in her early twenties, with shining pale hair and sparkling blue eyes. This woman was the spitting image of her mother, except her gossamer nightgown was in shambles and she was covered in something. The substance was foreign to her in this quantity. It was sticky and warm, dark in color. Dark red? Black? Thinking it to perhaps be wine, she smelled it. Instead of the sweet and heady scent that always accompanied the beverage, she was met with a metallic scent. It smelled somewhat like the armory in her castle.

With sickening realization, she discerned what exactly was covering her hands, her chest, her face: blood. Judging by the lack of wounds on her person, this red liquid was not her own. She attempted not to gag as she thought of what that meant. She stared at her trembling hands, slowly spreading her fingers apart. Sticky, red gore stretched between them in strings.

Scared and exhausted, she looked to her father for guidance. He was still slowly but steadily making his way across the river towards the rest of the family. In consternation, she began wading into the river as well in an attempt to follow her father. The frigid water seemed to strike her as it wrapped itself around her legs, coercing her to give in to its call. She felt the fight slowly be drained from her as she waded deeper. The murky depths looked like they went on forever.

"Father! Father, please wait!"she wailed after him.

Finally, he turned his gaze upon her and offered her a small smile.

"Now Pup, you do not belong here. You must stay. You know this. If you do not remain on that side to remind the world of who the Couslands are, who will? Honor and duty before anything, love. Someone must take vengeance for these acts. Please, pup. Don't lose your humanity in the process. Do so, and you become what you most abhor."

"No, Father, please! I do not understand. Please take me with you! I love you so much! Please, do not leave me here all alone. I cannot go on like this. I need you, and Mother, and Fergus. I need all of you. I cannot walk this path on my own. Father, I beg of you!" her voice cracked with the emotion weighing it down. Sobs ripped forth from her chest. Burning tears ran their course down her face as the freezing water of the river began to engulf her. The water rose over her head, sucking her down into perpetual darkness. Not being able to hold her breathe any longer, she gasped. Frigid water rushed through her throat, burning her lungs with cold fire. The last thing she heard before being overtaken by blackness was her father's calm and reassuring voice.

"I love you, Arilenia. Know that, no matter what, I will love you. Forever and always."


	2. The Dogma of Vengeance, Part 2

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for reading my first chapter and taking the time to read the second! I would really appreciate comments and reviews! :) Just to clarify for some of you who might be wondering about this topic after reading this chapter, there is no romance between Cousland and Duncan. They have a purely friends/comrades-in-arms/somewhat father/daughter relationship. Also, I'm publishing this early because, I don't know, I feel like it. However, know that it is not edited/proof read. I will do that tomorrow. DISCLAIMER: All belongs to the people of Bioware. I do not own the storyline, characters, etc.

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Arilenia awoke from a nightmare she failed to remember, gasping for air as if it had never before touched her lungs. Her limbs felt heavy and her muscles were instantly tense, ready for battle. Her heart crashed inside her chest, filling her ears with its unsteady rhythm. Instead of smelling the sweet, familiar scent of her castle, a tangy, musty scent greeted her. Her alabaster arms, splattered with dark red, were draped around a spotless white mane and coat. Her head was resting against the neck of this creature, gently lulling up and down with the beast's movement.

_"Abdallah!" _she thought with relief. Waking up to find her Arabian under her was perhaps more comforting than it should have been. Though, as reassuring as it was, she did not typically wake up in the middle of the forest in her nightshift riding a horse. This only served to befuddle her all the more and begged the question of how she came to be there. Attempting to summon her memory to fill her in on the holes only made her aware of the migraine that pierced through her temples. Sighing, she closed her eyes once again to calm herself.

Wherever she was, it was in the dead of night. She felt the cooling weather of fall against her bare skin, thoroughly revealed to the cold air by her ragged nightshift. The cold air stung her lungs as she inhaled, but the sweet smell of the forest was worth the pain. It was a comforting smell; she had felt more at home in the forest than she ever had in her castle. She did the duties which came with nobility, of course, but they never brought her satisfaction. Her nerves instantly soothed, muscles relaxing and heart calming.

Listening to her surroundings, she heard a strange anomaly: the rustle of leaves falling, interrupted by the steady clopping of horses' hooves.

Horses. As in _multiple_ horses.

Startled by this revelation, she attempted to sit up. Attempted, and very much failed as her whole person was snuggly secured to Abdallah with rough cord, perhaps twine. Her hands, she found as she struggled, were bound around his neck and her legs were tied tightly against the stirrups of her saddle. A single rope was tied around her torso and Abdallah's, digging sharply into her back. Strangely, the rope on her back hurt far more than it should have. With every movement made by Abdallah, a sharp jolt of pain went shocking through her system. Her shoulders, leaking copious amounts of blood with every step Abdallah took, felt as if they had been burned by brimstone sent from the Maker himself.

"_Am I being held p__risoner," _she wondered concerning her bondage, _"or is someone trying to prevent me from giving the ground a sleeping embrace?"_

Her fears of being held captive were assuaged when she felt the reassuring weight of her silver sword and family blade still strapped to her hips. A gift from her father at the ripe age of sixteen, her beautiful silver sword had been her constant companion since her first blade (though now that she thought about it, it was far more like a letter opener) broke during a dual with her brother. After perfecting a move taught to her by an older knight, she insisted trying it on Fergus. Blocking his swing in an overhead block, she slipped through his defenses with her nimble body and came in for a strike on his head. Unfortunately for her and very fortunately for him, he was wearing a beautifully crafted dragon bone helm, fashioned specifically for him as an engagement present. Her dinky steel sword hadn't stood a chance. At least she had technically won the dual.

"I am relieved to see you have finally awakened, my lady. How do you fair?" A deep, smooth voice interrupted her thinking. It was calm and reassuring, resonating with authority throughout every syllable.

It reminded her of her father's voice. At the thought of her father, her heart gave out a strange wave of pain. It felt as if she had an empty cavity under her breast; one that would never be filled.

Ignoring the strange sensation, she turned her head to observe the man from which the voice originated and was fairly bewildered at the sight that met her. He was in his mid fifties, but heavily armed and armored. His body was still obviously lithe and muscular, despite his age. Judging from his countenance, this man could have taken on any of her father's knights. She narrowed her eyes at him in appraisal. Any of and _all _of her father's knights, possibly at the same time; with his hands tied behind his back. In his smallclothes.

Silver streaked his long, raven black hair, currently tied back with a leather thong, on either side of his temples. Crow's feet were present around his eyes. The subtle wrinkles and white hair were the only things that belayed his age. His skin was still tanned and smooth. Though his face was stern and perfectly chiseled, she could see laugh lines gently slope around his mouth. His eyes, though almost black, danced and sparkled cheerily with a merry spark. She studied the man intently, for his aura reminded her too much of a man who knew very well how the world worked. She recalled her father once speaking to her about such men, warning her that-

Oh, Maker. Her father, brother, mother. Cognizance suddenly overtook her, drowning her in memories of the past night's events. It struck her worse than any weapon, taking away her breath and causing her to lurch forward in her saddle. Her head spun with the magnitude of grief that overtook her, her heart gone with the lives of her family; only a deep ache where they once were replaced it. It felt as if a dagger had been driven in-between her ribs and turned until a hole would permanently reside. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she fought them off as she forced herself to recall every memory, every feeling, every thought. Within herself she found only pain and blackness. Her family meant everything to her. Nothing was left for her, only despair. _Andraste, please no. Not now, not them... gone."_

And yet, there was a single emotion still in that black hole. It was like a beacon of hope for her in her moment of being lost; a lighthouse lighting her darkened path.

Hatred.

Remembrance was a hard mistress as it swept through her, ravaging all of her emotions in its wake. Arl Howe, her father, Rory, Duncan, her dog Sam, Nan, her mother, Fergus, Oren and Orianna. All their faces flashed through her mind, as did the images of all these people lying cold in their own blood, murdered in the dead of night. When she remembered the sight of her father cut open across his abdomen, she became sick. His entrails were an inch away from spilling out. Arlenia recalled the beating she had endured, and the faces of every man she had killed to escape. She forced herself to recall everything to the finest detail and permanently ingrain it into her memory. Blood had been spilled that night. Innocent blood. The only thing that would wash away that blood would be the blood of the man who had caused all of it. She dug her nails into her palms until she felt her warm liquid slowly ooze out as an acrid taste filled her mouth. She felt the ache in her chest recede from the forefront of her mind as she thought of Howe. The ache had been replaced by purpose: the arl's demise. She felt herself losing consciousness once again as her head fell back onto the neck of Abdallah. Drifting away to a land far more peaceful than reality, a single sound echoed through her ears; the soothing sound of Duncan's voice, apologizing for all she had endured.

She hardened herself against the sound, mentally pushing it away. Sorry wouldn't, couldn't, ease the pain.

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Arilenia sat atop the battlements of castle Cousland, gazing across the whirling sea at the sunset before her. A purple sky was streaked with soft hues of gold and orange; each white cloud had been gently touched by the rosy fingertips of the setting sun. She closed her eyes and breathed the smells of the ocean in. Salty mist slightly caressed her face with every wave that hit the cliffs, sending a pleasant chill through her spine and contentment through her heart.

She opened her eyes and stood up when she heard the heavy footfalls of her father approaching.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Pup?" her father questioned her with a faraway look in his gaze.

"More than anything in the world." She replied with a smile gracing her lips, turning once again to admire the lands.

"This is your home, Ari. You will protect it with everything you have, won't you? Even if I am not here, even if I leave this world, you will defend the Cousland honor?" her father's gaze fell on her face, imploring. It scared her; she had never seen her father beg before, not with his words or with his eyes. He was always strong, always firm in his beliefs. But here he was, her strong and proud father, begging her.

"Father, what in the Maker's name are you saying? Surely you do not consider yourself to yet be that old. Do not speak in such a foreboding manner, as if your years are limited to the number of digits on your hands. You have many fine years ahead of you. We all do. Mother, brother. Oren and Orianna. You know Father, I am afraid that I should warn you before hand. I will have to kill you if you plan on dying before I do," she said with a sarcastic smile. "We have so much ahead of us; tournaments and battles, feasts and glorious triumphs. You would not allow me to have all the glory to myself, would you?" she asked with an impish grin. As she said this, her father reached down to tenderly embrace her. She internally laughed at how she had to stand to her fullest height to throw her arms around his shoulders; while she stood at a fairly decent height herself, her father and brother were absolute giants.

She heard tears choke her father's voice as he replied with a forced smile, gently stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head.

"No, Pup. Of course not."

* * *

It was dawn when Arlenia awoke on her stomach atop a soft bedroll to the sights and smells of the forest. Whether it was hours, days, or weeks later, she could not tell. Quite frankly, she could not have cared any less. She wished forlornly that she had not awoken from her precious memories at all. However, she suspected dying in her sleep would be far too easy and kind. Reality would never be that easy on her.

Due to the warmth that filled her side and the comforting (though somewhat disgusting) smell of mabari warhound, she guessed Sam was curled up beside her. Cracking open her eyes, she was relieved to find that Sam was indeed alive, and sleeping by her side like he did every night. She spotted Duncan directly across from her on the opposite side of a small campfire. They regarded each other silently for a moment before he spoke.

"You have had extensive trauma to your back, my lady. I have done what I could for you injuries, but I fear infection has taken root. Seeing a healer, and soon, would be in your best interest. Potions would only trap the infection, possibly forcing it into your blood. Are you well enough to travel?" Duncan asked, standing from his crouched position over a map.

Inwardly assessing the extent of her injuries, she nodded her head with slight uneasiness. If the shivers that racked her body paired with the sweat that soaked her were any indication, she was experiencing an infection-induced fever. Without herbal or magical treatment in the next few days, she could possibly become comatose. Or worse. The bandages that Duncan had wrapped around the large gashes stopped the blood flow, so at least she was at no fear of bleeding out. That was good; she heard it was unpleasant. The one thing the bandages could not mask was the stench. If she could smell the scent of decaying flesh, she knew it was beyond bad. Perhaps she would die soon after all.

Her limbs were heavy as she stood, weighed down with fatigue and dehydration. A headache pounded through her temples, growing more agitated with every heartbeat. Her back was far more hot than it should have been and she felt liquid drain out of the gash. Her nightshift had been discarded somewhere by Duncan, but the professionally applied bandages covered her chest. Normally, she might have been perturbed by the fact that a man she hardly knew unclothed her while she slept, but at the moment she did not care. While she did not yet trust Duncan fully, she owed him her life. More so, he gave her the chance to avenge her family. If it wasn't for his intervention, she would most likely be lying in a pool of her own blood somewhere.

"There are some clothes in my bag for your use. They will not fit you, but they are of soft linen and should not agitate your wounds overly much. I am sorry, but that is as much as I can offer at the moment," Duncan said as he turned around, intending to give her some privacy. Not that it mattered.

He stooped over to roll up his bedroll as she pulled on the leggings and long tan shirt that covered her to her knees. She could felt her wounds tear open even more as she bent over. Arilenia was thankful that Duncan did not see her grimace of pain, for he was busy erasing any signs of their passing. If Howe's men were still in pursuit, which they undoubtedly were, they would need to proceed with caution. Unless they had found a body that resembled her remarkably, or one they assumed was her (possibly too mutilated to be sure), then Howe would have known she survived; and escaped.

"There is a small village a few days' ride from here. The farther we ride before stopping, the better. I fear Howe's men are still in pursuit." Duncan spoke, echoing her thoughts.

"Yes, I agree. I am fit for travel." she replied, voice raspy and hoarse. She grimaced at the sound. Her voice would have appalled her mother; it was not the proper voice of a young woman of her standing. Holding back tears at the thought of her dead family, her eyes met Duncan's. His gaze was filled with pity.

"I am truly sorry, my lady. If I could have traded my life for that of your family's, I would have without hesitation," Duncan offered, trying to console the broken look he saw in her eyes. She did not know why she believed him so readily, but she had always been one for discerning the motivations and affectations of those around her. In his words, she saw only truth. At this time of despair, he wanted nothing from her. More so, he was helping her; saving her. That knowledge threatened to release the tears that she refused to release. Tears were useless and a waste of good water.

"Thank you, Duncan. For everything," she said, gesturing to the wounds which must have taken hours to clean and bandage. Judging from the dark rings that sagged beneath his eyes, he had not slept since fleeing the castle.

"You did not have to-… You could have-…" her voice cracked, raw with emotion, as she thought of how easy it would have been for him to have left her there, unable to escape. Unable to one day avenge the deaths of all she loved. Slowly, it began to dawn on her that there must have been a reason for his actions. No man in his right mind would have stayed behind in that castle to help a bleeding noble woman while it was being burned and ransacked. Did he know that he would be unable to claim a reward or ransom? Perhaps he intended to sell her to Howe when Howe became frustrated with his fruitless search for her. Knowing his ruthlessness, he would stop at no cost to find her.

"There is nothing but my loyalty that I am able to offer in return, but know that you have it, for now. Once I reclaim my lands, I am sure I can offer you compensation for your deed-" Arilena started to say skeptically, trying to gauge his intentions towards her, but was cut off by the small chuckled emitted from Duncan.

"My lady, I did what I did not for monetary gain. Gold means nothing in my world. Your service to the Grey Wardens, however, would be invaluable. If you wish to compensate me, join the brotherhood of those that are currently fighting against that which would destroy this nation," Duncan said, placing a giant paw gently on her shoulder. With a rush, the deal he had made with her dying father came back to her. Joining the Wardens wasn't her choice. Her path had already been decided for her.

With nothing left to live for but vengeance and this man, this Grey Warden, her priorities were quite clear. She would do this man's bidding. Every word; what that would include, she hadn't the slightest idea though suspected it would involve much Darkspawn killing. After that, she would exact her vengeance upon Howe. A predatory smiled touched her lips as she thought of the man squirming in his own blood, begging for his life like the cowardly worm he was. But that was someday. For now, she had this Grey Warden to follow. While she had no real emotional attachment to the Grey Wardens, she had always considered their plight to be noble. Not many would give up their lives to battle hideous creatures from underground. Her father would be proud. Well, he would be proud of the idea, at least. She had a feeling that her overprotective father would be very much against her joining the order, but it is not as if she had much of a choice. She had a debt to repay to this man, and Couslands always repaid their debts. The fact that this man was currently carrying out her dead father's last wishes made it a rather large debt.

"It would be my honor, Duncan," she said, clasping hands with the man in fellowship.

* * *

It was days of rigorous riding before they came across anything resembling civilization. Even with the swiftness of their mounts, the journey took too much time. With every passing hour, Arilenia's infection spread. By the time the pair reached the village's healer, Arlilenia was barely capable of holding onto consciousness. As the healer started the excruciatingly painful process of repairing the damage, Arilenia's consciousness did not last. Once again, Duncan was the only one there for her in her needful time. The rumbling of his voice and the slight pressure of his hand grasping hers was the last thing she remembered before passing out.

* * *

Arilenia walked into the great hall of Cousland castle draped in the beautiful pale blue silk dress that had been a gift from her father. The fabric followed her every movement, swaying around her hips and coming to rest gracefully on the tops of her feet. The top of the dress clinched her bosom and torso, then flowed out from her small waist. The sleeves hugged her arms tightly and came out around her wrists in loose fabric. Her dainty lace shoes peeked out from beneath the dress, embroidered by one of the finest craftswomen in all of Orlais. Her pale golden hair, left unbound for the day, cascaded down to her hips in fine waves. A single silver circlet was interwoven into her hair, tucking the strands away from her cheeks.

She despised it. Too damn itchy.

She spotted her father discussing the arrival time of Howe's troops with "Uncle" Redni . Arl Rendon Howe had been her father's closest friend before she had been even conceived. Since childhood, she addressed the family friend as Uncle Rendi, but the name now seemed ill at place. There was a new spark behind Rendon How's eyes that unsettled her greatly. It was one of insatiable ambition; Rendon Howe would stop at nothing to get exactly what it was he desired. Arilenia couldn't have cared less of what he desired as long as those desires did not include her, her people, her family, or her lands. From the look in his eyes, it included them all.

"-expect your troops be here shortly?" Arilenia overheard her father saying as she walked up.

"I expect that they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault," Howe said with fake repentance. his voice coming out with a nasally whine. Arilenia no longer trusted this man, something she would have to discuss with her father that evening. Bryce Cousland always heeded his daughter's advice, for she was rarely wrong about such accusations.

"No, no," her father said graciously. "The appearance of the darkspawn horde in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself. I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!" the teyrn said in a jovial tune, slapping how on the back. She heard no mention of what her father's plans were for her, which was concerning. He could not possibly be considering leaving her behind?

"True, but we both had less gray in our hair then," Howe replied sarcastically as he rubbed the area where her father had hit, looking rather miffed. "And we fought Orlesians, not... monsters."

"At least the smell will be the same!" Her father let out one of his deep throated laughs, making light of the gruesome topic.

After clearing her throat to get her father's attention, Arilenia greeted her father with an embrace and kiss on his stubbly cheek. She proffered her slender hand to Arl Howe, which he greedily kissed. The way he looked at her made her stomach churn. Her hand felt wet and slobbery from where his lips met her skin. She would have much preferred being kissed by Sam; at least it wouldn't have felt so disgusting. Seeing as Sam was a dog who's traits consisted of everything slobbery, that was saying something.

She was not overly pleased when she learned that her duty for the upcoming battle was to watch the castle, but she accepted it. Arilenia would much rather have preferred following her father and brother into battle, but this was now her responsibility. Couslands _always_ put responsibility before desire. However, as she was debating whether or not to attempt to persuade her father into allowing her to join him in the upcoming battle, a dark man clad in magnificently crafted armor came walking into the room.

"-ase, show Duncan in." Her father was saying. Arilenia mentally chastised herself. _Maker_, she needed to pay more attention to what he was saying sometimes!

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland." said a resonating and powerful voice, presumably belonging to this man.

While Arilenia studied the man with interest, and he did the same to her, she listened halfway to the conversation going on between her father and Rendon Howe. Howe was surprised at the presence of the Grey Warden, and seemingly thrown off guard. When questioned by her father about it, he shook it off as being "at a disadvantage." Arilenia did not believe a word that came out of his mouth. He was a viper, spitting venom and her father _had _to know about it. Something was terribly wrong; she could feel it in the air.

"Duncan is looking for new recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he has his eye on Ser Gilmore." her father explained. Arilenia's ears perked up at the name of her best friend of twenty years. Why had Rory not told her about this? She felt somewhat betrayed by this withheld information, but trusted that Rory would have told her had he thought it significant. Perhaps he thought that he was not being seriously considered?

"If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter might also be an excellent candidate." Duncan offered into the conversation. While the wild dream of joining the Grey Wardens, of living a life of freedom and valor, thrilled her every fiber of being, she knew that she could not accept his proposition; nor would her father allow her to. She had duties to her people.

Just as she had predicted, her father quickly shot down Duncan's proposal. Arilenia had a sliver of hope that Duncan might further persuade her father, or perhaps even invoke the Right of Conscription, but Duncan obliged her father's will. Her shoulder's sagged in disappointment, which Duncan witnessed and acknowledged with an amused smile.

"However, if it is suitable to your lordship and my lady, I do not believe sparring to further our skills would be out of the question. It is rumored that my lady is quite adapt in her sword play as well as her archery." Duncan said, looking at Arilenia with a small, mischievous glint in his eye.

Arilenia looked up at her father imploringly, until he conceded to the request. There were four things in this life that the Teyrn absolutely could not resist: his beautiful wife, any and all requests made to him by his beautiful daughter, pork-wrapped mutton, and a fine Antivan wine.

"Alright, alright. But in exchange Pup, can you see that Duncan's needs are seen to while I am gone?" the teyrn questioned.

"Of course, Father. It would be my honor, Duncan." she replied, giving a low salute to the older man.

It was later that night, after rigorously trying to outdo each other on the battlefield, that Duncan and Arilenia sat at the banquet (held in Duncan's honor) trying once again to outdo one another. Unfortunately for all the other member's of the feast, it pertained to who could consume more food than the other. Much to the amusement to all at the table (excluding Eleanor) Arilenia had the appetite of large man and Duncan had the appetite of a grizzly bear. Eleanor shook her head at her daughter's monstrous appetite, while the teyrn simply joined in with the merriment. Arilenia realized suddenly that she had found a kindred spirit in Duncan, something that was not to be taken lightly when pertaining to her. She could find almost nothing on common ground between her and all of the court women. Obsessed with the frivolous, they were the opposite of everything she aspired to be.

Fergus left with the men that night without issue, and those in the Cousland castle retired to their chambers with promise of a sweet night's rest. The teyrn, however, stayed up in the library discussing tactics with Howe. Try as Arilenia might, she could not get her father alone. When she asked to speak to him in private, her father replied slightly drunkenly with, "Whatever I can hear, he can hear!" gesturing wildly at the arl. Dread filled her stomach at the situation.

Arilenia, after retiring to her chambers and dreaming of riding into battle as a Grey Warden at Duncan's side, was awoken by a horrific shriek in the night. Her bed companion, Sam, started howling at the door as she rose from her slumber in a flurry, not bothering to change from the flimsy nightshift she had clothed herself in several hours before.

Just as her fingertips brushed against the cool metal of her swords, four men suddenly burst into her room with blood-stained weapons, lust apparent in their gaze. She braced herself as she was grabbed by her hair and thrown to the ground. She heard something in her shoulder crack, but ignored it. Pain was not the most important thing right now.

The first man kicked her ribs, but before he deliver his second blow, she rolled onto her back away from his metal-plated legs. Jumping up and delivering a kick to the man's face, Arilenia heard a sickening crunch from the man's nose as he collapsed onto the floor. His nose was obviously disfigured, the nasal passages collapsed. Blood leaked from his eyes; the nasal bone had been rammed into his brain. She had killed him.

Standing there gaping at the man she had killed was a mistake that cost her dearly. Another soldier, perhaps the man's friend, brought his sword down upon her too quickly to fully dodge. She heard the horrifying sound that accompanied the ripping of her flesh before she felt it. Rolling past the man to her weaponry was her second mistake. The pain that lanced through the gash on her back from hitting the ground was agonizing. She felt bile rise in her throat and her lungs seized up. Stumbling a few more feet to her weapons, she grabbed them without hesitation. She felt blood spilling down her back and grimaced. However, now that she had her swords firmly in hand, the fight and ensuing kills were fair play.

Before the first man could bring his sword down to strike her again, Sam lunged and tore the flesh on his leg open. When the man let out a wild billow of pain, Arilenia ducked under his blade and cut open his stomach with one easy motion. Spinning, she blocked the attack of the third with her left sword before taking her right and plunging it up through his throat and skull. They were dead within seconds. Arilenia turned to the third man, but realized there was no need for violence on her part. The man had an arrow sticking through the back of his skull and out his eye. She wrinkled her nose in disgust; as if he face had not been ugly enough.

Searching for the archer with such an excellent shot, she found her mother. While Arilenia had heard of Eleanor's battle prowess before, she had never had the privilege of witnessing it firsthand.

"Darling! I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst. Are you hurt? Maker, what happened? You're bleeding!" Eleanor said, worry written across her face.

"No, it is not important. It will heal with time. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Arilenia asked with an equal amount of caring concern as she began examining the closest Howe corpse.

"No, they never got through, thanks to you. A scream woke me up! There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?!"

"Arl Howe is a traitor, Mother. I sensed as much from our recent interactions. I tried warning father, but he was not... prone to listen. The arl was smart enough to inebriate father. You know how he enjoys his spirits. I believe Howe knew that I suspected him. I fear this was all planned, including the coincidence that our troops are gone whilst he attacks." Arilenia's heart became heavy with grief even as she said the words. It is easy to ignore something when it is in your head alone, but once it is said it is said... the coincidences were hard to deny.

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed on purpose? That bastard! I'll cut his lying throat myself!" her mother was all but screaming with resignation. A thought seemed to abruptly overtake Eleanor. "Have you seen your father?" she asked, panicked. "He never came to bed!" Eleanor's face contorted with worry for her husband.

Despite the fear that wracked Arilenia's chest from the words her mother spoke, she tried to keep a calm demeanor. Eleanor had enough of her own emotions to deal with without having to carry hers. _"Stressing her will do no good, Arilenia. Just breathe. Deal with your own insecurities elsewhere. For now, you must find father and protect mother." _she told herself. She inhaled once, keeping the breathe in until her lungs were uncomfortable and released it slowly through her nose. Oxygen always soothed her nerves.

"No, Mother. I have not. I have been in my rooms for most of the evening. I am sure we will be able to find him though; Father has always been good at taking care of himself." Even as Arilenia said this, her stomach twisted in fear. Her father could be dead, lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere, and she was absolutely powerless to stop it. Knuckles white from gripping her blades with the ferocity of a savage woman, Arilenia stalked forward with determination and hate in equal parts written in her heart.

"Let us go then." she spat with all the contempt she felt for the arl.

If Arl Rendon Howe had harmed her father in the slightest, he would feel every injury tenfold. Her mother was right; that bastard was going to die. But he was going to die very, very slowly.

The atrocities that Arilenia witnessed that night would haunt her forever. She uncovered the corpses of her sister-in-law and nephew soaking in a pool of their own blood. Orianna's dress was shredded, her pale breasts exposed and bruised, leggings carelessly thrown across the room; the implications drove another dagger of hate through Arilenia's heart. Oren's small frame was covered in bruises and small nicks. They soldiers had obviously thought him to be great sport before slitting his throat from ear to ear. Oren's eighth birthday was in two weeks.

_"__Is this the honor of the noble families you always talk about, Father? Honor does not exist in this world. Not anymore."_ That night, Arilenia released the honor that she had before so cherished. It meant nothing. She would kill every son of a bitch that got in her way with sadistic pleasure. For every bruise on Oren's body, she would cut open the heart of a Howe man; and she would enjoy it.

Making her way with Eleanor through the castle was tedious at best. The older woman was having trouble keeping up, though each shot fired from her bow always hit its mark. Sam was a life saver; literally. The warhound protected both Arilenia and Eleanor throughout their fights, aiding them in their battles when needed. The trio soon encountered a large group of soldiers in the intersection of several corridors, one of them being the family treasury. Arilenia fought against them like an abomination, executing each deadly move with a dancer's grace and precision. She did not hesitate when an opportunity arose; if she could slice through a man's hamstrings so he would fall and she could decapitate him, she would.

Suddenly, a massive, heavily clad man came stomping up to her with a brutish strength that made her cautious. This man was not an ordinary soldier; this was undoubtedly a knight. Grinning at the challenge, Arilenia dodged his first attack with an easy roll to the side. She twirled both of her swords in a perfect arching motion as she came to stand, slicing the underside of the knight's arms. In a rage at being injured, the knight made a sloppy overhead swing. Executing a perfect parrying riposte, she ran her right blade between the crevice that joined his plate armor and lunged, turning her left blade perfectly to fit into the eye slit on his mask. The blade made a satisfying crunching noise as it sliced through the man's ribs and into his lungs. He died drowning in his own blood, and she could not have been happier. Coming across the bodies of her dear teacher and Mother Hannah did nothing to ease her hate. She abhorred every last one of Howe's men, and they all would pay.

Her mother insisted on retrieving the Cousalnd family heirlooms, a Cousland shield and sword. The shield would undoubtedly get them killed if someone were to see it after they escaped, for the Cousland emblem blazed gently on the front of it: two intertwined olive branches, signifying peace even in the face of war. The sword, however, could be wielded in public. Gleaming silver in the dying light of the candles, the Cousland sword was nothing short of gorgeous. Small inscriptions could be seen engraved into the surface of the sword, beautifully intricate. The was simple, crafted of fine silver and etched with the Cousland emblem. It was not obvious to those who did not know it was there, so it should not be a problem in the future. Gentle shocks of lightning rippled through her as she held it, though not harming her, for it was blood-bound. Those not of the Cousland bloodline would be unable to wield it, lest they electrocute themselves. A treacherous guard had discovered that small quirk too late for his own health. She quickly attached the sword to the belt carelessly thrown about her hips and picked up a substantial coin purse along with two small potions. She debated drinking one now, but decided to wait. Odds were that she was bound to get injured again before the night was over.

Leaving the treasury, Arilenia steeled herself. It was time to find her father, or die trying.

The first time her heart broke was that night. As if the deaths of her beloved nephew and sister were not enough, her best friend was lost defending her family. She had always feared the time when his duty might call him to protect her to the death, but she never imagined that it might come so soon. Hope for life was met with the reality of death when she saw him for the first time that night. Trying to describe the feeling of relief she felt when she saw his red hair and green eyes, alive and well, in the main hall, would be like trying to describe a color. Impossible and pointless. One must see the color to understand it for the color is different for each person viewing it. She ran to him, carefree like when they were children, and he scooped her up in his arms, holding her to him as much as he could. They stood like that, unable to speak, for some time. Memorizing each other's scents and the feel of their bodies pressed against each other. It was in that moment that she realized the extent of all he meant to her.

She had had a feeling for quite some time that he desired more than friendship from her, but duty had always crushed the words that went along with the feelings before they could be spoken. It was bad enough that the teyrn's daughter went about sword fighting and frolicking about in the woods, but to marry a knight? It was preposterous. Now, she wished she would have given over to the insanity called love. Unfortunately, it was too late.

"You must go, my lady," Rory said, voice tight and raw with unshed tears. "I will defend the gate. The teyrn has retreated to the servants' exit; I suggest you join him there." He mumbled all this into her ear, not willing to let her go. Tears welled in her eyes as she begged him to come with them, to stay alive. "Rory, please. I can not do this without you. I beg you!" her voice cracked on the last sentence, and the tears started falling down her face. That was the first time she had allowed herself to cry in years.

Rory gentle pushed her away from him, placing his hands on her face. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs, staring into her eyes with the unsuppressed burning passion of love. Their love was innocent and pure, untouched by the heinous acts going on around them. Leaning down slowly, he captured her lips with his. His mouth was hot and sweet against hers, and when they separated, she found herself longing for more than that chaste kiss. Unknown to him, it was his lady's first.

"I love you, Arilenia Surrexerunt de Cousland. Never forget that." Roderick said as he ran his fingers through her hair, lightly placing his lips against her forehead. "Now go! I will man the gates!"

"I love you, Rory..." Arilenia whispered as her mother dragged her away, heart ripping itself apart when she heard the sounds that accompanied Howe's men breaking through the front gate. Rory would not survive this encounter.

Running with all their might, Eleanor, Arilenia, and Sam reached the servant's entrance in the larder. It was impossible to believe that earlier the same day her greatest concern was collecting Sam from Nan, and killing the giant rats that decided to make the larder their home. It felt like a lifetime ago; the lifetime of a different person.

A gurgling sound coming from the ground alerted her to her father's presence, and his mortal condition. He was grievously injured, with a great gash across his middle. It had split his abdomen open, pouring blood and leaking stomach fluid. Her heart stopped beating as she saw him in that state.

He was dying.

"Bryce!" she heard her mother cry out. Arilenia was shocked, raptured into a trance-like state. The only thing that brought her out of it was the warm hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her out of her stupor.

Duncan.

"I was... wondering... when you would get here.." Her father barely managed to gurgle out, blood bubbling from his mouth with every word. It was everywhere; his mouth, his nose, chest, hands. The floor was covered in a pool of blood, entirely his. She did not know there was that much in the human body.

Arilenia rushed to him, kneeling by his side and grasping his hand.

"Howe's men... found me first... almost did me in, right there...". Arilenia shushed him with a finger to his lips, and began gently stroking his cheek to soothe him.

"Come, Father! We need to get you out of here. Take my hand! I can support you, we can all make it out. You'll be just fine, you'll see." Arilenia felt more tears run down her face on the last sentence because she knew, somehow knew, that he would not survive leaving the larder.

"Bryce, please. We must get you out of here." Eleanor's soft, silky voice was now rough.

"I won't... survive the standing, I think." Bryce Cousland choked and gurgled on his own blood, leaving a spray of it over her chest after coughing. The wound on his abdomen ripped open further. Tears leaked from his eyes, intermingling with the blood that came from his mouth. Arilenia kissed his face regardless, cringing at the salty and coppery taste.

What happened after that would forever be an undecipherable blur to Arilenia. Her mother was saying nonsense about staying to die, Duncan and her father were arranging something, and the next thing she knew, she was captured by strong arms that all but dragged her away from her family. She saw tears running down her father's and mother's faces as the told her that they loved. She shouted that she loved them as she was persuaded to keep moving my the hulking mass of Grey Warden behind her. After entering the servant's passage, Eleanor shut the camouflaged stone door behind them.

In an instant, all she knew was black; her soul, festered from the hate that was now ever-present, the passageway which had no discernible source of light, and the Grey Warden's eyes who she was being forced to trust to lead her away from the horror that she had just witnessed.


	3. The Death of Arilenia, Part 1

Sorry about the late update everyone! Unfortunately, I've had the stomach flu all week... nasty piece of work right there! Anyway, I hope you enjoy. The plot will really start picking up in the next chapter, so please keep with me. Please comment, rate, review, favorite, etc. Hope you guys like it! :)

* * *

Arilenia awoke from her nightmares to the sweet smell of freshly washed and aired cotton sheets as well as the barely-present but very particular smell of blood. Small earthy wafts filled her nose, indicating the presence of medicinal herbs.

_"Probably used to seal my wounds,"_ she thought, attempting to catch a glance at her back. It no longer pained her, which was a relief; literally.

She was laying on her stomach atop a small bed, thank the Maker. She hadn't slept on much but a horse for almost the past se'nnight. If she had been lucky during their journey, Duncan would call halt and she could collapse onto the forest floor or find shelter in the tree tops above. Her paranoid Grey Warden insisted upon her safety, and he seemed to have convinced himself that the trees were indeed the safest place for her. He was right of course; if she didn't fall out of the damned thing in the middle of the night. Predators seemed like the lesser threat when compared with the clumsiness she was prone to when exhausted.

Arilenia sat up in her cozy bed, examining the room before her. Small dust particles could be seen as the sunshine coming through the window hit them, illuminating them in an iridescent glow. It was a plain room, nothing at all like the extravagant chambers she was accustomed to calling home, but it was homey; it felt safe. Basic wooden beams composed the floor, but the walls were of cool grey stone. A small hearth ran the height and half the length of the wall opposite her bed. A crackling fire was housed within, driving out the pre-winter chill of the room. Beside her bed was a small nightstand with a basin of water and a small washcloth. Lying next to it was a hand-held silver looking glass, mediocre in its fashioning and littered with small black spots. It was tarnished and plain, but Arilenia saw it as incredibly beautiful; after all the depravity she had witnessed, seeing something so untouched by the unwelcome brutalities of reality was gratifying.

Whipping back the quilts and sheets that she was buried under, she swung her feet over the edge of wooden frame and onto the floor. She stood up and took a step forward, but had her venture come to an abrupt and forced halt. Before she knew it, her face was somehow on the floor of that cozy room, giving its heartfelt greetings to the wooden planks.

"What in the nine bloody circles of-" Arilenia began to say in exacerbation as she hunted for whatever had tripped her, but stopped herself when she saw Duncan curled on a pallet right beside her bed. She stifled an uncharacteristic giggle as she saw that he had given into Sam's undoubtedly eternal begging and had allowed him to sleep on the pallet beside him. Well, as the case may be, it was more like laying half-strewn across him, drool pooling from his fat jowls. Poor Duncan. She noticed her meager possessions were beside him, resting in a neat pile.

Arilenia sent a quick thanks to the Maker that Duncan was sleeping. Six days they had travelled, slowed a considerable amount by her injuries. She couldn't remember seeing him sleep the entire time. While he could have rested while she was asleep, it wouldn't have been for very long. The ropes that initially tied her to Abdallah had to be removed as they only served to reopen any healing that was being done, regardless of the bandages. She would have welcomed the removal of the ropes, but that also meant that she had to be conscious for the journey. She was an impeccable rider, one of the best, but skill could only bring someone so far when they were completely zonked. Because of that, the journey had taken twice what Duncan had originally estimated. For that matter, she couldn't recall technically completing that journey... She remembered Duncan saying something about being near their destination, but after that? She couldn't remember.

_"Fine brain, you wish to give me grief? Go ahead! I do not need you anyway, you fat oaf." _Arilenia grumbled to herself, cursing the fact that she did rely quite a bit on the use of said brain.

Grabbing her things, she began to rise as quietly as possible to not wake Duncan; she fully intended to let him sleep the rest of the day away if that is what his body required. Her small feet made little noise on the floor, so she silently crept out of the room and into the hall wearing a pair of unassuming black baggy trousers and a shirt that engulfed her frame. Where they had originated from, she hadn't a clue. While her first assumption would be that they belonged to Duncan, she discerned from the evidence that that was most likely untrue; they were much too short and though baggy, not large enough to be his. Judging from the size and common cut, she hypothesized them to belong to a middle-aged man who liked to be discreet but not shabby. He was probably a happy family man, maybe a store owner. They didn't have enough holes and patches in them to belong to a farmer, and they weren't the pompous clothes of an overweight innkeeper. She already liked whoever they belonged to.

Arilenia shut the door behind her gently, taking in the sight of a seasoned war vet snuggling happily with her mabari for the last time. She smiled to herself, enjoying it.. She had a feeling Duncan would be very embarrassed were he to know she caught him not only sleeping, but sleeping with Sam strewn across his chest. It was slightly surprising that he didn't sense her consciousness, for any small noise had set him off during their journey.

One time, she had almost died of fright (and height) when she sneezed in the middle of the night and was met with a blade at her throat. It surprised her so much that she shot back away from it, forgetting that she had taken up residence in a large tree upon Duncan's insistence. She hadn't forgotten that fact for long as she plummeted towards the ground. Fortunately, Duncan had grabbed her leg when she had fallen, catching her and suspending her upside down in the air like a sack of potatoes. _Unfortunately_, he had also lost his grip, causing her to fall the rest of the way to the ground and receive a refreshing face full of dirt. It hadn't been a pleasant way to awaken, but at least he had slowed her descent drastically. If he hadn't, she quite possibly could have broken her neck. Duncan had apologized profusely afterwards.

_"Ha! Survive the massacre of your entire house only to fall out of a tree and die because the man who saved your life insisted it was the safest place?" _she thought to herself bitterly. _"Wouldn't that have been perfectly ironic." _Remembering the fall of her people with jest aided her in coping. If she grieved now, she wouldn't recover. One day, when all her debts were paid and Howe was sufficiently dead and rotting, she would go to bed and sob. She would cry for the fallen until she had nothing left, then fall asleep and hopefully not wake up again. She had a feeling she wouldn't have a problem doing so. For now, it would most likely be a challenge to untangle herself from the Fade every dawn and the memories that walking its surface caused to come flooding back.

She stood in the shadows of the second story of a backwater inn, guessing from the symmetrical row of rooms littering the hallway. The hallway met a large landing looking over a common room. It was bustling with travelers and townspeople, trading supplies and stories. She overheard the conversation of a couple hunters below, trying to outdo each other with the size of their kills. Grizzly's of course, giant ones. One had taken down his with only a shoestring, a pair of tweezers, and a croissant from the misses. Arilenia snorted and rolled her eyes at the preposterousness. No one would be dumb enough to believe that he had-

"Really?" One of his companion said in awe with a thick country accent. "That right there be down right 'ncredible! Ain't that right, Butch?"

She smacked her palm against her forehead. Nevermind. Someone would _always_ be that dumb.

She spotted a simple, hooded black cloak hanging from the railing over a pair of black boots, and decided no one would miss them for a few hours. Putting on the black boots and wrapping the cloak around her made her feel more secure. Her countenance was pretty hard to mistake for anyone but herself in a crowd. If Howe's men were down there, they would know her just by her hair and eyes. On that note, she tied her long hair back in a leather thong and pulled the hood up over most of her face. She slung her black leather belt around her waist, securing her own beautiful silver sword and the sword of her family to her hips. She attached a hidden dagger to the inside of her thigh, and laced her coin purse through her belt. She had carried that dagger since one night when she had almost been assassinated during one of Highever's autumn festivals. Rory had saved her in time, but the memory of the man's hand around her throat still caused her pain. She hadn't a clue why someone would want her dead, but it didn't matter now. There were now plenty of reasons to want her dead. She smirked at the thought. For someone so loved by the people as she, being hunted was a new feeling. Considering the fact that she had done no wrong and was now being hunted by her father's best friend, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Embarrassingly, she had imagined what it would have been like to shirk her duties and run away from the constricting life called nobility. She would wander aimlessly, preventing atrocities where she could and deliver retribution where she couldn't. It had all seemed so romantic; but this?

This was death in a walking form. Fitting, seeing as death and war was the only thing she had to live for.

Sticking to the shadows like a wraith, she walked downstairs. She had some purchases to make before they began their journey again, and her stomach protested its emptiness. Very loudly. Her appetite had never matched her countenance; while her body suggested she was a slight young woman with the appetite of a small bird, her stomach seemed to believe it belonged to a man who was thrice her size. The resulting meals were uncommonly funny. Her dinner habits were quite the sight to see; Eleanor had almost always made sure to not have dinner guests over when Arilenia was around. Arilenia could play the game of nobility even better than the women at court, but she chose not to the majority of the time. She simply didn't care enough to. Why cater to the simpering whelps that came to dine with them? Most of the men wanted to marry her, and most of the women wished their husbands would stop lusting after her; of course, they always blamed Arilenia for it. Never did the women consider the fact that perhaps it wasn't her fault their husbands were pigs. Putting on her façade for those people wasn't worth damaging her relationship with her people. The people of Highever had always enjoyed their lady's uniqueness. Arilenia differentiated from the common nobility in almost every way, and they loved it. She visited the towns and cities in her domain constantly; guarded by a whole platoon of guards, of course. Unfortunately for her, the guards would only ever serve as a hindrance if a riot ever broke out. One never had, thankfully. She had loved all the guards, and would've hated for one to pointless lose his life "protecting" her. Her heart sank as she realized that those same guards were now dead, rotting in the stone halls of her ancestral home. She bit down on the inside of her cheek until it bled to reprimand herself for her pointless thoughts. They were dead. Moping wouldn't bring them back. Howe's death, however, would make their souls rest that much more easily in the Fade.

Sitting down in a dark corner of the inn, she scanned the common room. She failed to see anyone who resembled a soldier, but that meant little. Howe snakes were known to use espionage and deceit to infiltrate and conquer. They could be disguised as farmers or pretty little barmaids for all she knew, which meant that everyone was under suspicion. Well, everyone except Duncan. She narrowed her eyes at the thought. Probably not Duncan.

As if the thought triggered her appearance, a barmaid came strutting over, posing obviously for all to see.

"What can I do for you, hun?" The woman asked, leaning over so her ample cleavage threatened to spill out from her too-tight dress. She was a chunky little thing, so the tight dress only served to make her look like a sausage. Other than that, she was pretty, but the sausage thought would just not leave Arilenia's thoughts. A sausage with very large assets that were now being flaunted in front of her face. Arilenia tried to keep her face placid, begging it not to crack. It was just so humorous! This woman must have thought she was a man, given the clothing. She could definitely use that to her advantage; women seemed to be uninterested in serving other women. The petty jealousy and rivalry drove her crazy as a girl, but she had learned to cope with it as she grew older. Not everything could be changed. However, it could now be exploited; play along and throw in a little charm, and she might just get a meal and some information.

"While your beauty has been a feast in and of itself for my eyes, my lady," Arilenia said in her lowest man voice possible, keeping the hood low over her eyes, "I do require sustenance for the stomach. I fear my heart disagrees with my stomach on matters of what is filling and what is not. Perhaps you would indulge a wretch like me with your assistance?" It wasn't hard for her to pass as the opposite gender, for her voice was raspy and deeper than usual from dehydration and sleep. It was also quite easy to send the barmaid all ablunder. All it took was for Arilenia to take the woman's hand and raise it to her warm lips in a small kiss. Playing the man was oddly satisfying. She must have been losing it.

The woman flushed, seemingly taken aback by the chauvinistic way with which she was being treated.

"Oh- well, I umm- uh, well of course. That's what I'm here for, sweetheart. What are you in the mood for?" The woman asked, slightly frazzled. Regaining her composure, Arilenia saw the woman's pupils dilate as she said, "I can get you _anything _your sweet little heart desires. _Anything._" Arilenia internally grimaced at the words that were being emphasized. As if she hadn't caught the woman's meaning the first time she said it.

"Whatever it is that is that is most pleasing to my lady's taste, for I would greatly appreciate her joining me for a meal. I am afraid my heart lacks the fulfillment of company. I am not a man who often travels with others." _Technically_, she wasn't a man at all, but this woman didn't need to know that. She also almost never (except for when she managed to sneak out) travelled without someone; it was far too dangerous for a person of her blood. However, it sounded mysterious and woman love mysterious men. At least, that's what she had heard.

Her flattery worked, for the woman quickly bustled off after giving a dazed affirmative, swooning on her way to the kitchens. It left Arilenia feeling as if she were about to burst from laughter, but her grin fell as she noticed a few men glaring at her. She stared back, refusing to back down from the challenge. These men were probably after that woman, and they didn't appreciate their sugar being stolen. When she didn't look away, instead meeting their gaze from the shadowy recesses of her hood, the largest man of the group stood up from across the room and came clamoring over to her table. She propped her feet up on the stool in front of her, reclining in her chair and placing her arms behind her head in a cocky show of ease. This was going to be interesting.

"Seems we be needing to have us a lil' talk 'bout what be what 'round these parts, kid. I don't be appreciatin' you givin' so much 'tention to my fair lady over yonder. I be havin' a feelin' that a twit like you wouldn' even be knowin' what to do if you got 'er in bed in." The grizzly man said, grinning an oily smile. He pulled out a stool and slammed himself down into it.

"It could not be all that difficult. After all, there are only a few holes to choose from, and some women can be very accommodating in that matter. Chances are, I will get it right at least once. However, on a different note, I am terribly sorry, but you seem to be disoriented. The ugly table is over there. I fear this table is appreciating its current lack of stupidity, though I am positive that one would more than suit your excessive needs," she said, pointing at the table with the three hunters. She began feeling the adrenaline surge through her veins at the sight of the man; he was terribly large and hairy, reminding her of a bear. _He has also obviously never heard of a toothbrush_, she thought, grimacing. Little black speckles were all throughout his teeth, and small bits of bread crumbs hung from his unkempt beard. She suddenly felt very sorry for whatever poor young woman had agreed to marry _that_.

"What did you say?" the man more threatened than asked, clenching his fists on his knees.

She smiled an unperturbed smile back at him.

"Ugly _and _deaf? Oh, Andraste bless your poor soul. The Maker has dealt you quite a lousy hand. At least you seem to be making the best of it, roughing up kids who are just trying to mind their own business and whatnot. Not very nice of you, you know." Arilenia said in the patronizing lecture-voice that she had learned after countless reprimands from Eleanor.

"Listen ya brat-" the man began to say, but Arilenia held a hand up to stop him.

"Call me brat, one more time." she said menacingly. She could take kid, or twit, or even a whole other variety of names. But _brat_? That was just excessive. The other patrons of the inn had obviously begun taking notice of the atmosphere, because some gave her pitying looks and some began forming a circle around them.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" a few of them began chanting in a steady rhythm. If Duncan slept through this, it would be a miracle. However, tripping over said Grey Warden this morning had sent her into a slightly foul mood, and she was itching for a fight. She hadn't been able to get the rage of her family's deaths out of her system, but this man was going to get a taste of it. Being hungry also didn't help her temperament. She tended to get rather ferocious when she was hungry.

"B-R-A-" The man didn't get to finish his spelling lesson before she shot out her fist, firmly cementing it on his face. She heard his nose give a little pop and saw a tooth go flying off into someone's stew. The force from her punch sent the grizzly man flying off the back of chair and sliding a few feet across the floor. She walked over in front of him, waiting for him to stand up. Unclipping her sword belt, she deftly removed it before tossing it lazily back to the table behind her. The bear finally stood up, slightly disoriented and extremely testy.

"You stupid lil' son of a bit-" he shouted, coming at her with raised fists. She turned her body in a fighting stance as he came running towards her, and time slowed down. She felt as if she could see and hear everything. The slow sound of her exhaling lungs, the shouts of the entertained men, the bartender's strained face as he gazed at a delicate looking vase on one of the tables nearby, the hilariously slow movement that the bear's shouting caused his jowls to move in, and the feeling of the firm floor beneath her feet. She couldn't deny it; she loved to fight, especially hand to hand combat. Ever since she was little she had gotten a thrill from sparring, and today was no exception.

When the man got close enough, he attempted a swing with his fist at her head, but she easily dodged it by crouching down below it. As she was crouched, she flipped onto her back and shot her now-free legs up and into his barrel-like chest. He stumbled backwards but it wasn't quite enough to bring him down. She jumped back up onto her feet, circling her opponent while standing ready, poised on her soles.

The men that had originally given her pitying looks had now joined the ring, and bets seemed to be going around concerning who would win. If it kept going like this, the bets wouldn't be very be good; the grizzly man hadn't even gotten a single hit in. It would be far too obvious who would win. She sighed. She supposed she could make it a little more interesting for herself. She picked her targets beforehand and decided to allow him to rough her up a bit. This fight was about to be much more interesting.

She braced herself as he ran at her again, swinging at her stomach and face repeatedly. She dodged the first two with ease, but allowed the third and forth to connect on her ribs and a fifth on her jaw. She grimaced and sucked in air at the pain, but hid it from the man. She thought he might have managed to crack a rib, but she certainly wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Cheers went up from the larger portion of the crowd, but a few of the men groaned. Whether it was in understanding at her pain or the thought of them losing their betting money, she didn't know. However, one thing she did see was that the betting rounds were now done, and it wasn't in her favor. Good. The gamble was on. But she wouldn't focus on that; she had a glorious comeback to make. She grabbed his left arm with her left, using the momentum to spin herself so the right side of her body was facing him. She easily swung her elbow around and back, delivering a hard blow to his sternum, causing him to gasp for air. But she wasn't done this time; it was time for this to be over. She was starving.

She released his arm and jumped into the air, executing a spinning round-house kick to his lower back with one leg and using the other to kick out the back of his knees. This sent him spinning off into the ring of men, but not before hitting the table that the poor vase was on. After landing on her hands and flipping forward onto her feet again, she saw the bartender's face turn into a horrified grimace in her peripheral. The vase had fallen over and was rolling off, but she dove for it and grabbed it before it hit the floor. Passing it to the flustered barmaid with a wink, she acknowledged the very grateful look the bartender was giving her with a small nod. She mentally made sure the hood was still on, which it was. Amazing.

Being the good ol' bar fighters they were, the men pushed the grizzly man back into the ring without pity. Most of them looked like the wished they could switch their bets.

The man came running at her wildly for the last time. As he was almost on top of her she grabbed his arm with both her hands, raising it above her head and turning around, back facing him. She abruptly bent over, using his own momentum to send him flying over her back to land in a giant heap on the floor. He was out cold.

Arilenia heard groans and grumbles from all around her and saw most of the men forking over their sovereigns to two others.

Wait, only two bet on her? _Really? _She was slightly insulted. It wasn't as if they knew she was a woman. She grunted.

Stupid men.

She glanced at one of the men who bet on her, an oriental looking older man, perhaps in his sixties. He caught her gaze and gave her a mischievous wink, walking over to her.

"How did you know?" she asked the man, cocking her head to assess him.

"I know a Shang-Ai stance when I see one. Not many are blessed to train with such an elite group of warriors, but most do not live to tell the tale."

She acknowledged his accurate assessment with a nod. During her eighteenth summer, she had requested the location of one of the travelling Shang-Ai warriors as her nameday present. After learning it, she had sought the warrior out on her own; the journey was brutal. It was the first time she had been away from home without her royal entourage, and she hadn't exactly left under the best of circumstances. Specifically, she left during the dead of night, sliding from her tower on bed sheets. Ah, good memories. The journey was one she would never forget; bandits and thieves, wild street urchins, orphans, prostitutes, escaped mages, an eighty year old warrior, and even a sweet Templar recruit she had met in a small chantry after being beaten and robbed by said bandits and thieves. In her defense, she had been naught eighteen and outnumbered sixteen to one. She took six of them down, but had lost her footing (clumsiness from being tired, no doubt) and knocked herself out quite thoroughly on a rock. She would never live that one down. They were probably still laughing at her to this day. After being stripped of her money and clothes, she was dumped on the side of the road. At least they hadn't taken her maidenhood whilst she slept. She narrowed her eyes at the thought; at least, she didn't think they did. A few days later, a couple wandering Templars and their mage prisoner found her and brought her to the chantry where she was nursed back to health. During her recuperation, she had made a friend with a boy she knew liked her for who she was, not what she was. That was something she always feared with Rory; how did she know he loved her for Ari, not Arilenia Surrexerunt de Cousland, daughter and possible heir of the Teyrn? There was no way of knowing. Though one thing she had discovered during that time was that she quite liked the mage prisoner and the Templar recruit much more than she liked the actual Templars. The poor mage boy couldn't have been more than a few years older than she. Hadn't she done the exact same thing as he when she had run away? And yet, because he was a mage, he was obviously going to be harshly reprimanded, possibly tortured for his actions. He hadn't deserved that. He had escaped from the Circle tower, not brutally murdered someone.

After healing for a few weeks, she had said goodbye to the brown-eyed recruit and made her way to the mountains where the Shang-Ai warrior she sought was taking up residence. It was a perilous journey, and one that had almost cost her life. She hadn't been prepared for the cold; though she had seen snow before, and could even work quite efficiently in and around it, she had never witnessed it to the extent she did that summer. There were feet of it in the mountains, and the black storm clouds blocked the sun from her view. Her sense of time and distance became disoriented, for the sky way perpetually black and the landscape only seemed to repeat itself. Instead of finding her warrior, she had gotten hypothermia and retreated to a cave where she had fallen asleep. The Shang-Ai warrior had found her there instead; if he hadn't, it was extremely possible she wouldn't have awoken at all.

His wake up call was not the nicest; he dumped water on her head (warm water that had quickly frozen her hair into icicles) then threw a sword at her. She caught it with the ease of practice, but before she could even ask what he was about, he was upon her. His strikes were relentless. It was undoubtedly the hardest bout she had ever fought. Eventually, her strength gave out and she kneeled before him in surrender. He told her that he would trade her life for a request; kill a man, and she would be released. She had instantly refused. Nothing was worth giving up the Cousland honor for; definitely not her own measly life. This answer had apparently impressed him, for he had accepted her as his apprentice. Arilenia somehow knew that if she had accepted his initial offer, he undoubtedly would have decapitated her on the spot. From then on, they had a kinship she would never forget. The warrior was as wise as he was fierce. He trained her brutally, but not just in sword play and martial arts. He taught her how to control her emotions, how to live a selfless life, and most importantly, how to die with honor. She stayed with him the rest of the summer and well into the autumn. At the end of her training, he told her to kneel and pulled out an oddly shaped iron from the fire that was constantly burning in the middle of their cavern. She didn't even see the brand coming. He ripped the back of her shirt, branded her shoulder, then patted her on the head like he hadn't just permanently scared her flesh with no warning whatsoever. Then, to top it all of, he told her to leave, and sat down to meditate. It was definitely one of those "What the in the Void just happened?" kind of days. Going back to Highever, she was a changed woman. The first few weeks of her return was also when her father began considering her for the position of Teyrna, in place of her brother. Fergus had never wanted the role, but she had never been suited for it. Oddly enough, she accepted that she might be chosen as Teyrna, which shocked her father. Training with the Shang-Ai taught her duty to her people before duty to herself, something she had always taken lightly. Not anymore.

Before she could ask the man what he knew of the Shang-Ai, and perhaps if he knew anything about the whereabouts of her warrior, she saw a few guards enter the inn with a WANTED poster. Specifically, one with her royal image on it. She was slightly curious as to what they would say The Jewel of HIghever had done, but wasn't quite cooled down enough to ask. They wouldn't recognize her with the hood, but she would rather not get pissed off by some bigot guard and get into a fist-fight, only to be thrown in the garrison and get discovered. No, best to find a back exit and go do some recon on her surroundings, possibly purchase some plate. While she appreciated the freedom of movement granted to her by clothe, it wouldn't prevent much in an actual sword fight, much less the battle that she would almost certainly be partaking in within the next month and a half or so.

Walking through the kitchen, she nabbed an apple and found the exit she was looking for. She opened the door and walked out into the beautiful early autumn sunshine. The leaves were in the middle of changing, showering the whole village and surrounding forest area in vivacious colors. Biting into her deliciously juicy apple, she spotted a town square. Hopefully this place had an armory. It wasn't quite as backwater as she had originally assumed, but it was still quite minute. She gazed appreciatingly at the scenery before her; minute perhaps, but it was also very peaceful.

Finding the blacksmith and armory wasn't difficult. "Jack the Blacksmith" was the only one within sixty miles. Because of that, he was blessedly well stocked. He was also a friendly man, not bulky like most blacksmiths, but still ruggedly cut. He had a fuzzy beard and jovial appearance. He seemed like quite the family man. She guessed correctly as when they were bartering, a blushing young woman came strolling in with a small child grasping tightly to her skirts. When the little red headed girl saw the blacksmith, she squealed in delight and came running towards him. He scooped her up and spun her around, planting a kiss on her pudgy little cheek.

After tugging on her daddy's beard and hugging him around his neck, the girl only then seemed to spot her. She seemed to be fascinated by what she saw. It probably wasn't everyday that she saw a stranger cloaked all in black shopping in her father's store for heavy plate. Especially not one so relatively small. For a woman, she was of decent height; for a man, she might be able to pass as an adolescent. Maybe.

"Daddy, why is that girl wearing your clothes?" the little girl asked in breathy innocence.

"Lena! That is a young man! And HE is wearing my clothes, isn't he?" the blacksmith scratched his head and looked at her, seemingly in confusion, but realization soon dawned on him. "Ah, yes of course! How silly of me to forget. You must be the young man Duncan mentioned. I happen to be an old friend of his; he stopped by here when you two came into town. I heard you were badly injured. How do you fare? You were asleep for quite awhile from what I understand."

"I assume my injuries are healing nicely, though I cannot be sure. I fail to feel infection, but I have not been able to fully examine them on my own. It is somewhat difficult to look back there without aid, as you can probably imagine. Though, I must ask: I had assumed I was asleep for at least two days, though nobody has been around for me to question. How long has it been, exactly?" Arilenia asked, hoping for a low number.

"Oh, goodness... I'd say it'd be what... three? four?" the man ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, then started counting on his fingers. "Two, three... five... eight days! Just a little bit over a se'nnight. Quite awhile to be snoozing the day away, I'd say."

This revelation shocked her to the core. She had suspected three, five at _most_. But eight? She must have been more grievously injured than she had first assumed. On the bright side, she could feel the scabs on her back itching, and judged that they were well on their way to healing. Her doctor must have been a good one.

"Thank you very much for the information, and," she said gesturing at her clothes, "your other kindnesses. Concerning the equipment, it all looks very well crafted and tailored. I would be honored to wear it."

"Well thank ye very much for the compliment, but I'm afraid there's one problem. If you're the young man Duncan talked 'bout, that means you're gonna be a Grey Warden." The blacksmith had lost his jovial tune, and now looked at her solemnly.

Her heart sank into her stomach. Did this man have something against the Wardens? If so, would he sell to her? She needed this armor. If she didn't get it...

"Yes, that is right. I am to join the Order in less than three se'nnight's time." Arilenia replied skeptically.

"Well if that be the case, I regret to tell ye that I can't sell to ye. The patronage of any young man riding off to fight monsters, ready to die for this country, is not welcome here. Today, you pick what you want, son. I won't be chargin' ye. I couldn't, not on good conscious. Also," the man said moving to the back of the shop and pulling out a large wooden chest in the process. "that armor isn't the best in the shop. I can't let you take that. What a man needs for protection, especially one so young as ye are, is this." The blacksmith placed the huge chest atop the counter, and slowly opened it. What he pulled out was glorious. One of the finest plates she had ever seen met her eyes; the skill with which this material was worked was blatantly obvious. And stunningly gorgeous. She gaped at it, breathe sucked from her lungs in awe.

"'Twas me grandsire's armor. Not sure he ever wore it into battle, but seems a shame to let it rot 'ere without a proper owner. Too small for me, and me daughter ain't 'xactly interested in armor. But you," he said, holding the beautifully crafted chest piece up to Arilenia. "would be perfect for it."

Her heart clenched up over the wonderful deed this man was doing for her. She wasn't accustomed to people doing things for of their own free will with no attachments; they all wanted something from her. But this man, this man she barely even knew, was giving her his grandsire's armor. She couldn't imagine how much the same plate would cost, but she had a feeling it would have been at least a few hundred sovereigns. Arilenia sucked in a breathe, knowing what she had to do. It pained her to do it, but this wasn't right.

"Words fail to express how very grateful I am to you," Arilenia said, grieved. "But I cannot accept. Accepting such a masterpiece without due course would not be right. Please, let me repay you. Whether that is in sovereigns or work, payment is necessary. That you would even offer for me to be able to purchase this armor is a kindness in and of itself that touches me to the core. Thank you." Arilenia said, giving the man a low salute.

The blacksmith sighed, then shook his head and gave a breathy laugh in a sign of acquiescence to her request. "They just don't make 'em like ye anymore. Any other young'un woulda been jumpin' at that. Well, tell you what. We'll think of a fair price, and I'll give ye a discount off that. The rest of the payment ye can use gold, or ye can work for me. I will think of some things you can help me out with 'round here for the next week or so if that's what ye want. Whatever suits ye."

The thought of working and paying for this armor thrilled her. She hated using her family's wealth for her gain, but their reputation followed her everywhere she went. She had a feeling that she hadn't ever gotten a fair price on anything in her life; they had all undoubtedly been lowered less the Teyrn find out his daughter had been swindled. But being able to work and pay for this armor gave her a sense of fulfillment; she would not have been able to rest easy knowing that she was so indebted to someone. This situation soothed her conscious, but still allowed her to get what she needed. The steel armor she had been looking at previously couldn't even be compared to this; it was dragonbone, fashioned in the most beautiful array of material she had seen. It gleamed black in the low light of mid-afternoon, almost seeming to absorb the light from the sun. It was splendid.

"Instead of standing 'ere gapin' at it, why don't ye join me, the misses, and the kiddo for supper? We don't got all that much, but we'd be honr'ed for sure to share it with ye."

Just at that moment, her stomach let out a ferocious howl, startling even herself. "Well then," Arilenia replied, grimacing at the noises now being emitted from her stomach. "I guess that matter is settled. Thank you for your hospitality, Jack."

"Anytime kid. Anytime. Come on, Lena! Let's go eat lots of grub!"

"Ewwwww, Daddy! It isn't grub!" The girl replied, face contorted in disgust at the thought of eating grubs.

"You're right, kiddo. It isn't." Jack replied, scooping up the little girl in his arms once again. He fake whispered into her ear, loud enough for them all to hear, "But grubs sure might taste better 'an mommy's cookin', eh?"

"If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it. You might as well just starve yourself and save us all the trouble." his wife replied, scooping the little girl out of her father's arms. She turned around, huffing her way out of the store.

"Rule number one: never insult a woman's cooking. They're all ev'r so feisty 'bout it. Eh well. Women." Jack said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Yeah," Arilenia replied, straight-faced and not at all amused. "Women."

* * *

Dinner at Jack's house reminded Arilenia of emotions that were better left buried. She felt like she was once again with her family. Her heart was growing attached to these people, and she didn't like it. Death came to all; this family would be no different. What did it matter if she cared what happened to them? It would only serve to cause her more grief in the end.

On her way back to the inn, after bidding the family adieu, Arilenia became lost deep in her thoughts on the matter. Try as she might, she couldn't get rid of the little girl's smile from her mind. She reminded Arilenia so much of her little Oren. Her distraction may have been the reason she didn't hear the bandits as she walked out of the house, or see them light the small place on fire before it was too late. She heard the screams of the family, and the laughter of the bandits as they were running away. A small cry seemed to follow them. What is was from, Arilenia couldn't have guessed.

Arilenia sprinted back towards the house, praying to the Maker that she made it in time. Bursting through the flaming door, she scanned the small place for the family. Jack had been knocked unconscious. His wife was screaming and crying, begging him to get up and attempting to drag him out of the flaming building. Arilenia pushed her aside, and slung Jack over her shoulder before screaming at his wife to get out. She ran out of the house with tears in her eyes, Arilenia close behind her. Suddenly, a flaming board crashed in front of her, blocking her exit. Arilenia was beginning to choke on the fumes. Her eyes were watering from the smoke and heat, almost blinding her. The heat from the flames that lapped at her skin was excruciating. She felt the back of her shirt catch fire. She definitely wouldn't be getting out of this one unscathed. Running up the stairs to the second floor was more than brutal. Not only her life hung in the balance; so did Jack's. She _had _to make it out. She wouldn't allow this family to suffer as she had. Arilenia reached the top of the stairs, gagging and coughing. She searched for an exit, but to no avail. All the doors were bloody locked. Using her full body weight combined with Jack's, she slammed her form against a door. It caved in, giving her access to a window within. After setting Jack down, she punched the glass with all her might, shattering it and slicing open her knuckles in the process. She picked up Jack once again, straining under his weight. He had to have been twice her size. Climbing out of the window, Arilenia made it onto the roof and into the night air. The roof burning, melting the soles of her boots and burning her feet. Finally, she made it to the edge and jumped, Jack included, into the watering trough below. She was almost positive she heard a hissing sound when she hit the water. She clambered out, dragging Jack onto the ground beside her. Stopping to listen to his heartbeat, she was to relieved to hear the steady _bum-bump _that signified he was still alive. His lungs were even moving in a steady up and down movement. She collapsed onto the ground, gagging and coughing.

Oddly, though they were safe, Jack's wife was still bawling. Somehow, that wasn't right. She was supposed to be happy. Arilenia's mind was hazed. Breathing in slowly like her Shang-Ai warrior had taught her, Arilenia slowly cleared her mind and her thoughts. She let the oxygen seep into her lungs, quenching her need for unpolluted air. Cini. She had to check on Cini.

"Cini, what is wrong? Please, you have to tell me." Arilenia spoke in a calm and reassuring voice, attempting to coax Cini from her mindless distress.

"Le- Le- Lena- they, they took- those bastards took Le-" was all Cini got out before breaking down into sobs once again.

Arilenia felt her heart sag in her chest. If those men had Lena, it wouldn't be long before they did whatever it was they intended. Rape was unlikely, but slavery was never out of the question. The price for a young girl, easily molded into whatever the master wished, would be high. They would most likely camp over night, then leave to sell her to the highest bidder at dawn. That couldn't happen.

"Cini, listen to me." Arilenia said, voice coming out harsher than she had intended. Cini looked up at her, cringing and still in shock. Arilenia softened her voice and used her hand to turn Cini's face to look at her. "Cini, I will get her back, but I need you to follow some very specific instructions concerning Jack. He may be comatose, I do not know yet. However, he needs water. His throat has swollen closed from the smoke, so you will not be able to give it to him now. Once an hour or so has passed, pour some into his mouth and tickle his throat until he swallows. Hopefully it will wake him up, but not necessarily. After that, he needs to be elevated properly so his lungs can fully expand. Prop him up on the side of you barn, or even a tree; just ensure oxygen can flow through his lungs without straining him. He has burns on his abdomen and arms that need to be tended. From a base look, they are not bad. Run cool water over them before putting honey on a clothe and wrapping them in it. Do not put ice on it, regardless of how badly his burns pain him when he awakens; it will only aggravate it. Do you understand?"

Cini nodded, tears finally drying from her eyes.

"Good. I _will_ get your daughter back." her eyes darkened with hatred for the corrupt men that had done this. "And any man that has touched a single hair on her will pay with his life." Arilenia said, standing from Jack's side and checking her weapons. Her family sword cracked and sparked, magic wavering through the air around her. A river of blood was going to flow tonight. Her eyes gleamed coldly, lacking mercy, as she walked out into the night air.

Tonight, she would get out a little bit of that excess hatred she felt for Howe. The bar fight hadn't brought her satisfaction, only intensified her craving for blood and justice.

Those poor bastards wouldn't know what hit them.


	4. Death of Arilenia, Birth of Arian

Duncan watched silently from above the common room as Arilenia clearly picked a fight with a man twice her size. He could understand her need for getting out the odium that clearly boiled under her skin, but he didn't appreciate her recklessness. Her stunt could land her in the brig, or possibly in the gallows if someone with proper connections was unfortunate enough to set her off. Though as much as he disapproved of her foolhardiness, he couldn't help but admire her fighting skill; that, mixed with her prize intelligence and rumored supreme charisma, were the reasons he came to Highever on a recruitment session. While Ser Gilmore was also a prime candidate, he wasn't Duncan's first choice. Arilenia would be perfect for war; the Wardens would not only benefit from her presence, they _needed _her. None of the wardens, himself excluded, were her equal in battle. She was undeniably a prodigy. At her age, he hadn't had half her skill. From the rumors, he understood she was of the Shang-Ai order and had studied almost relentlessly from the time she could hold a quill. Her knowledge of strategy, politics, and even medicine would all be put to the best use in the Wardens.

However, her value was not in her ability alone; indeed, she was a magnificent person, admit it or not. She was tough, relentless, and driven in everything. She was stubborn as a mule, and had a strength of will he hadn't seen for decades. These qualities were rare to find in a single individual, but even more rare was her desire for righteousness. She wanted to do what was right by everybody, wanted every one of her people to grow to their full potential. She loved her servants, cared for them in a manner he had never seen in before in nobility. While her father was a wonderful man, the Teyrn seemed to take less enjoyment in his people than she did. He did things from a sense of morality and duty, not from personal attachment. Arilenia, however, did everything she did with all of her heart and soul. At least, that's the impression he had from before the attack.

After the massacre she had witnessed, Duncan was almost surprised that she hadn't died from lack of desire to live. Yet, as long as the Arl lived, he knew she would never rest. Duncan also believed the oath that she pledged to him; as long as he needed her, he knew she would not abandon him on a mad quest for vengeance. He also knew that as soon as the archdemon was dead, Arilenia would disappear. The Arl would probably turn up dead a few weeks later. Despite her inevitable disappearance, he would recruit her. If he was lucky, perhaps she would return to them after her sojourn; he considered her a friend, and hopefully she would consider him as such one day. Perhaps she would even look up to him as the father that she no longer had. He absently wondered what the man who he considered as his son would think of her. He had a feeling that Alistair's heart wouldn't stand a chance; if she decided to join the Wardens as a woman, that is. He wasn't so sure at the current moment; she seemed quite enamored with acting like a man. Though, he had to admit, it would be a very efficient disguise. He seriously doubted anyone would be looking for the beautiful daughter of a Teyrn dressed as a man in an army campsite.

Duncan watched as Arilenia made short work of the man who had tried to intimidate her; her fluid movements outmatched his hulking mass in every way. The poor fellow hadn't stood a chance from the moment he opened his mouth. She greeted an oriental looking man, then spotted a few guards entering the inn. They were holding a WANTED poster with her family crest on it; anything marked with that symbol would be confiscated, the owners possibly tortured. He prayed that she didn't do something rash.

He was slightly surprised when instead of violently retaliating she ducked her head and made a beeline for a back exit. It seemed that she wasn't a complete fool, despite her tripping over him a few moments before. He pretended to sleep as he heard her fall (probably flat on her face, knowing her when she was tired) and ignored the grin that threatened to curve his mouth when he heard the string of curses she let out. She stopped midway and began snickering, most likely because she spotted him snuggling with Sam. The dog was persistent; he couldn't sleep because of all the begging. When Sam realized he wouldn't be able to sleep with his mistress, the thought that Duncan was the second best thing seemed to lodge itself in his doggy brain. Duncan regretted giving in to the foul-smelling creature the moment he became aware of the fact that he drooled. And drooled, then snored, and drooled even more. It was a miracle Duncan had gotten any sleep for the past se'nnight. Arilenia seemed to have no problems with sleeping the whole time; he thought she might've been in a coma. It was a good thing she woke up, though why she had awoken when she had was a mystery to him. He suspected it had something to do with the nightmares she was obviously experiencing. Her crying and thrashing disturbed him greatly, for he couldn't doing anything for her. He hadn't the slightest idea what she was encountering in the fade, and worried that she might succumb to death's sweet call. Many were too weak-willed to persevere through the psychological assaults inflicted by the fade. However, death was the easy way out, and her stubbornness most likely prevented her from doing _anything _the easy way.

Duncan followed her at a distance, wondering where she was going. He appreciated her ability to be inconspicuous in a crowd; she weaved between villagers easily, despite the fact that she was so oddly dressed. What man walked around in autumn in black long-sleeved clothing and a cloak? It was chilly, true, but it was yet to be winter. It would be logical for her to be distinct in the crowd, and yet she gave off such an aura of obscurity and belonging that she scarcely got a second gland. However, those second glances were typically from young farm maidens. Duncan had a feeling those looks weren't ones from suspicion, but admiration. It was incredible. He was suddenly glad that she was joining the Wardens, not going into politics. Or even worse "Antivan politics"; she would probably be good at that too. He had yet to witness her using poisons or bows, but he had a feeling that she would be just as competent with an assassin's skills as her warrior skills.

Thank the Maker she wasn't a mage. She would probably be unstoppable just because she was too headstrong and ornery to be possessed. A demon wouldn't possess Arilenia; Arilenia would possess a demon.

Arilenia arrived at her destination, that being the blacksmith. She emerged a short time later, being all but dragged by the blacksmith, most likely to dinner. They followed a young woman, Cini if he remembered correctly, and their beautiful red-headed daughter.

Duncan held in a laugh at Arilenia's evasiveness. Almost every question that Jack asked was evaded or reciprocated with a different question after an answer that didn't really answer the original question in the first place. It was incredible that Arilenia could impromptu all of her answers and create questions to distract Jack from his questions, but it was even more incredible that Jack never even noticed. She delivered her speeches and questions with such ease that the blacksmith never seemed to examine anything she said for its validity. She somehow managed to even dodge the question of her name; now that was simply hilarious. Poor Jack. The blacksmith would probably look back on this afternoon and realize that even though they had talked for hours, he knew nothing of the stranger cloaked all in black.

They finally arrived at Jack's small cottage and went in for dinner. Duncan considered waltzing in and joining them, but didn't wish to invoke Arilenia's wrath when she discovered that he had been tailing her for the last hour. Instead, he climbed to the top of the nearest tree and waited.

Arilenia left the house a couple hours later, waving to the blacksmith and his family, hood still firmly drawn over her face. Duncan's scrutiny of her softened; the poor girl didn't even trust Jack enough to show her face. He wondered if she would ever trust anyone enough to reveal to them who she was before Howe was dead, or possibly even after she had killed him. He imagined that if she found out that Fergus was deceased, she would put aside her grief and reclaim her lands. She cared too much for her people not to. But if Fergus was alive? He hoped she wouldn't run out of reasons to live. Perhaps she would find meaning and solace in the Wardens. The Wardens weren't just comrades, they were family. He hoped they would gain a sister in Arilenia; or a brother. Either worked.

She wandered down the path that would lead her back to the inn, lost in her own thoughts. He saw the bandits at the same time she did, and resisted from springing forth into action. He would allow her to handle this situation, then evaluate her movements. He was curious as to what she would do; not many would run into a burning building to save a man they barely knew, much less a noble saving a peasant. It was simply unheard of. If she required his aid, he wouldn't hesitate in helping her, but she seemed to be able to handle herself.

What she did surprised him to no small extent. She didn't cautiously go in after the family after assessing the danger, didn't ignore their distress, or even run off to find help for the family. No, she shoved through the burning building, hustling her way out regardless the obstacles. He couldn't see inside, but guessed that something must have collapsed when Cini emerged from the house and she and Jack weren't behind her. Not even a minute later, she came springing out of the second-story window, on fire with Jack thrown over her shoulders, and jumped. She landed in a deep watering trough, creating a large splash. He thought he heard a hissing as the flames that practically engulfed her were put out.

She came staggering out of the trough, dropping Jack and momentarily checking his life signs. None of the other Wardens would have known to do that; there were many things she would be able to teach them. After checking him and being seemingly satisfied with the results, she collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. However, she perked up after hearing the sobs still being emitted from the blacksmith's wife, Cini. From what he could understand, the girl was gone and Arilenia was not going to hesitate in retrieving her.

He just hoped she wouldn't lose part of her humanity in doing so.

* * *

Arilenia stalked through the woods, silent and inevitable as the grave. She was beyond angry; she felt like vengeance incarnate. She would kill every one of those men without remorse. She just had to find the bastards first.

The forest was as black as obsidian, the moon and stars hidden behind a thick blanket of mist. It made tracking hard, but Arilenia was the best. She always had been. It wasn't pride that caused her to think so, it was fact. She followed their trail relentlessly, examining each anomaly in the soil. Every broken twig and dented leaf led her closer to where Lena was. She crouched down, scrutinizing the prints in the moist earth. There were six at least, all men judging from the size and cuts of their boots.

She had sensed Duncan behind her for hours now, but decided to let him continue his snooping. If he desired to follow her, that was his business; she just hoped he wouldn't interfere with what had to be done. She would do anything for the man, but it was her duty to get that little girl back and make those men pay for her tears with their blood. Nothing less would suffice.

She tracked for what felt like hours, her only companion the soothing sounds of the forest.

Oh yeah. And there was Duncan, clambering along behind her like an ogre. While her foot steps were silent and delicate, his were loud and obnoxious. She was surprised he hadn't scared away all the animal life by now; animal life which she now failed to hear. She stopped, listening for the classic noises that accompanied the signs of animals; the creaking sound of crickets, the hum of beetles, even an occasional hoot of an owl. There was nothing. She must have been getting close to the bandits' campsite. Those who did not belong in the forest tended to disrupt it. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breathe to calm the pounding of her heart, just as her master had taught her. If Arilenia made the smallest mistake, if she didn't plan this perfectly, it could cost Lena her life. If the men had a hold on her, a single wrong move could kill her. While Arilenia wanted more than anything to preserve the little girl's life, she knew she wouldn't be able to if it ever boiled down to a hostage situation. She couldn't allow these men to get away, regardless of what they threatened. They would pillage and plunder, rape and steal if she were to allow them to go free. If she was lucky, they would forgot about Lena in the heat of battle. If not, she didn't know what she would do. Let the men get away and kill again? Save Lena?

It all came down to ruthless calculus. One life versus an indefinite number. And yet, is that what she wanted to reduce Lena to? A number in a calculation? Sweet Lena, with her red hair and easy laugh that turned up the corners of her mouth. Lena, with her long gangly limbs and freckles? Arilenia sighed, conflicted. While she adored little Lena, what other young girls would be killed if any of them were to escape? Little girls with mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers?

Opening her eyes, Arilenia came to a resolution. She knew what she would do if the situation demanded it. Arilenia might be responsible for the blood of a child on the same hands that she had the blood of murderers, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made. The girl didn't deserve that, but she refused to place countless lives at risk for one. Allowing the girl to die would kill a little of herself, but she would allow herself to lose her humanity in order to be humane. Right now, her main goal was to make these men pay for all they had done. Nothing else mattered. She had to prepare her heart for the war that was soon to come, and this might very well be the best way to do it.

Determined on her path, Arilenia once again continued her hunting, sending a silent prayer to the Maker for Lena's sake.

_Please, if you're there, don't force me to make this decision. If you grant me one request, grant me this one._

* * *

Arilenia came upon the bandit campsite after another hour or so of tracking. It was situated in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by the forest. Arilenia spotted Lena tied to a large tree, ropes tight around her torso, feet, hands, and even neck. The poor girl wouldn't be able to even move her neck without the ropes being removed. A blindfold covered her eyes and a gag had be shoved into her mouth, but she appeared to be sleeping. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and small snoring noises came from her direction. Arilenia overheard the murmuring conversation of the only two bandits awake at the moment, currently sharing a meal beside a campfire. Tents had been erected throughout the clearing, most likely housing the other four bandits.

Arilenia plotted her strategy, considering every available variable. One man by the campfire was lightly armed and armored, likely a rogue. He would have smooth and fast movement. The other appeared to be more brutish. He had a large great sword strapped to his back and was almost fully armored. He was large and hairy, one of the biggest men she had seen before. His face was oily, and he sported a black eye. His nose was slightly crooked, as if someone had punched-

Dear Maker, it was the bear from the inn. The slimy worm must've been spying! She felt her blood beginning to boil. She ground her teeth, clenching her hands into fists until her knuckles were white. She should've finished him when she had the chance.

Examining the other man, she recognized him as one of the men the bear had been sitting with. All of these men must have been hired for some purpose, but what purpose had that been?

"Howe won't be happy, you know. Our mission was to search for the girl, not cause unnecessary trouble with smalltown ruffians. You should have let it be." the rogue said, voice cool and clear.

"Who's in charge 'ere, ya sodding nug humper?" the bear replied, clearly annoyed by the fact that his authority was being questioned. "The brat embarrassed me, ME and 'e is gonna pay. 'e was eatin' with this family fer hours, 'e's gotta have some kinda connection to 'em. Takin' the girl is just gonna lead 'im here. Once 'e's dead, we'll get back to huntin' the soon-to-be-deceased Teyrna."

Blighted bunnies, these men were Howe's men? She suspected there were Howe snakes somewhere near or in the inn, but she had never suspected this dim-wit. This changed things; she was the reason for Lena's capture. Because of her immature decision to take her rage out on that man, they had come after Lena. She should've kept her head down. They wouldn't have taken Lena or discovered the location of the "soon-to-be-deceased" Teyrna.

Wait. Did he say Teyrna? If that were true, that would mean Fergus was... he was... Andraste, please no. Not him too. She wouldn't believe it; she couldn't.

"You know Howe wants the woman alive. Honestly, I feel sorry for her. Howe wanting a woman in any manner has never been a good thing. If you hurt her, after express orders to bring her in alive, he'll have you flogged and hanged. But whatever pleases your majestic mind. Don't let me try to dissuade you." the rogue said clearly, then whispered under his breathe. "Corpulent cacafuego."

"Good we be agreeing then," the bear said, walking toward a tent. "but I'm a 'eading to bed. Ray, wake up! Ray!" The bear yelled, shaking a tent until a young man came stumbling out of it. "Yer on watch. Start wit' partolin' the perimeter. If either of you sods wake me up, heads'll roll."

The sleepy man nodded his head sluggishly, then set off towards the edge of the clearing. He didn't stop there, instead progressing into the woods; most likely to relieve his bladderly urges. The rogue watched him as he left, rising from his spot by the campfire as soon as the man was out of sight. He picked up his waterskin and the dinner that Arilenia had noticed he had barely picked at, walking towards the tree where Lena was imprisoned. He knelt by her side, putting the waterskin down to undo her blindfold and gag. Surprisingly, he gently shook her awake with obvious care. Lena's eyes shot open, instantly tearing up at the sight of her captor in front of her. She shook with fear, futilely trying to get as far away from him as possible. As she was still bound, her thrashing did nothing but cause the ropes to cut more deeply into her skin.

"Shhh, shh little one. I am not going to hurt you. See? I brought you dinner. I'm not the best cook, but it is pretty good grub." the rogue said in a soothing voice. He smiled at her, reaching for the ropes that bound her hands together. "My name is Hayden. What is you name?"

"Le-Lena." she said skeptically, eyes narrowed at the man before her as he undid her ropes. Oddly enough, he didn't stop at the ropes tying her hands together. He progressively undid them all, gently removing them so they didn't cut her delicate skin. "But it isn't grub. Grubs are gross. Just ask my daddy." She corrected him with a stern face.

"Well then, you're very right, my lady! What a foolish mistake I have made. It is very good food then. But while I very much enjoy your wise teaching, I don't think you should be here. My friend back there is a rather cranky fellow, and not at all right in the head, especially since he got knocked around by your friend earlier. I disagree with him on what to do with you, so I'm going to take you back to your parents. Is that okay?" Hayden asked, giving her a tentative smile and reaching out his hand to help her up. She stared at him for a long moment, then sprang up, ignoring his hand and jumping to wrap him in an embrace.

"Thank you, thank you. I miss mommy!" Lena said, beginning to cry.

"Hey now, don't cry, little one. We're going to take you back to mommy and daddy right now! But you're going to have to be very, very quiet or my grumpy friend will wake up. What do you think about that?" Hayden asked her, wiping a stray tear from her pudgy face. Lena nodded her head vigorously, placing a single finger on her lips, ensuring her silence.

"Good then! Now let's go before my other friend gets back. He's pretty grumpy too." He said, crouching down so she could climb onto his back. She jumped up, very pleased with not having to walk. He adjusted her more securely on his back, then took off running in the opposite direction that the man went out into the woods. Arilenia was lucky he didn't spot her; he ran not even two feet away from where she was hidden in the shrubs.

Arilenia let him go, deciding to deal with the others first. She emerged silently from the shrubs, crouching down low to study the camp. With the rogue gone, only five were left. Four were likely asleep and unclothed, unprepared for battle. She could take them without a sword and her hands tied behind her back. She climbed into the lower branches of the large tree Lena was tied to, waiting for the man to come back from his outing. She didn't have to wait long as he walked into the clearing from the same direction he left. When he spotted the ropes strewn across the ground, he ran over, silently examining them. He looked around, searching for his fellow captor, but failed to find him. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to his comrades, but Arilenia grabbed her dagger from her thigh, aimed, and let it loose. It stuck him through the middle of his throat, making him gurgle and choke on him own blood. He raised his hand to the dagger, disbelieving, then collapsed to the ground. She jumped from her perch, black cloak swirling around her like thunder clouds. Crouching down onto the soles of her feet, she yanked the dagger from his throat, wiping the man's blood off it and onto his shirt. At least he didn't need to worry about stains anymore.

The scuffle must have woken another man up, for he ducked his head out of his tent. The sight that met him was clearly not what he had expected. She drew both her swords, enjoying the feeling of the magic coursing through her veins. Her family sword crackled and sparked, illuminating the entire clearing. He screamed, reaching for his weapon and running out of his tent in his smallclothes. He poised en guarde, quivering with fear.

"If you're going to fight me, Howe scum," Arilenia spoke, "then do it with dignity. Put your bloody pants on, at least."

The man nodded numbly, shocked beyond all belief. He rushed back into his tent, shaking like a noble woman's small dog in the middle of winter. His rustling and screaming must have awoken the others, for they rushed from their tents fully armed and armored. She didn't see the bear, which wasn't all that shocking. His tent was at the opposite end of the clearing, away from all the others. The two bandits rushed at her, intending to kill her with brute strength alone. Their weapons were raised above their head, leaving their torsos fully exposed. Arilenia took advantage of that. She threw her dagger once again, striking a bandit straight through the eye and into his brain. He fell to the ground in a heap, instantly dead. The second man continued to come at her, bringing his sword down in a strike, attempting to knock her off balance with the force of his blow. Instead, she brought her right sword up in a parry, deflecting his blow and jumping back. They circled each other, assessing moves and tactics. The man lost his patience, coming in for another blow. She parried that one as well, attempting to riposte, but failing as he came up to block her attack. They dueled for what felt like hours, blocking the other's movements and reciprocating with their own. Finally, the man panting and sweating, attempted a sloppy attack. Arilenia blocked the swing to her head with both her swords, trapping his weapon in the "x" of her swords. She kicked out with her booted foot, delivering a swift blow to his groin. The man doubled over in pain, stumbling forward. She took the opportunity to swiftly slit his throat.

Arilenia heard rustling off in the distance, coming from the pantless man's tent. He emerged, still shaking like a dog. She just stood there, staring him down. He lost his composure, running from her and right in the direction of the bear's tent, probably for aid in the battle. The bear finally became known, coming forth from his tent just like a grizzly coming out of its cave after a long hibernation. The bandit fell at his feet, groveling and crying.

"He- he came, and I- I didn't know what to do- hel, help please help!" the bandit begged, clinging to the bear's legs. The bear would have none of it. Looking down upon him with disgust, he raised his sword, bringing it down to slice the man through his back. The man gazed up at him, confused, before collapsing once again onto the ground. This time, it would be permanent.

"Where's the gurl?" the bear asked, slowly walking towards her.

"The girl? Oh, you mean the delicate angel you stole from her family because you were too much of a coward to come after me like a man? I am not quite sure. Are you certain you didn't eat her in a moody fit? Or perhaps she was sucked into the black hole that resides where your brain used to be? Both are quite reasonable explanations." Arilenia taunted, practically begging for him to come after her. It was working. The bear ground his teeth, growling and hands tightening around the pommel of his blade. "I'm sorry sweetheart, did I hurt your feelings? Arilenia asked with a non-repentant smirk.

"I'm a gonna kill you, whelp. But I'm gonna kill you nice 'n' slow like. Let's settle this like men." The bear said, shoving his sword down into the soft earth and taking off his metal plate. His pulled off his boots, throwing them aside. He picked up two branches from the ground, throwing her one. She easily caught it midair, giving it a spin to test the balance. It would make a rather nice staff. This man just made the biggest mistake of his soon to be non-existent life. If she was decent with a sword, she was incredible with a staff. Staff fighting was the majority of what her master had taught her, after all. She smiled, quite enjoying herself. "Take 'em off, brat." He said, gesturing to Arilenia's cape, swords, and boots.

She grinned, throwing her swords aside and removing the dagger from her thigh. She took off her sword and belt with patronizing slowness, putting them aside in a neat pile. Finally, she shrugged out of her borrowed cloak, letting it pool on the ground. The bear's face was priceless. Eyes going wide, he sucked in a breath.

"You seem surprised." Arilenia said in her normal voice, smirking like the cat who ate the canary.

"You- it's you! You were right there this whole time! You lil' brat!" The bear yelled, running at her and swinging his staff with all his strength at her legs. She jumped with all that her muscles could give, flinging herself into the air. She kicked out with a roundhouse kick, striking him in the temple. She fell to the ground, landing on bent legs. The man stumbled, disoriented from the blow. This fight wasn't going to be like the previous one; she had been holding back before. Not now.

She took his disorientation as an opportunity to strike, delivering multiple blows to his stomach and face. She moved her staff to one hand, swinging at the man's face with her left fist. When the blow connected, her hand cracked, a few fingers popping out of place. She ignored them, swinging her right leg out to hook around the back of his knees, knocking him flat on his back. She came up with her staff, intending to strike him in the head and end the fight, but he rolled to the side, dodging her blow by inches. He jumped up, bringing his staff down from above, intending to strike her head. She blocked the blow easily using both her arms to support her staff, but it suddenly did something unexpected.

It bent under his blow, cracked, then shattered.

The blow progressed through, striking her on the top of the head. Hard. She fell under the magnitude of the strike, vision blacking out. She tried to stand, stumbling along on her hands and knees. The bear came up beside her, kicking her in the ribs while laughing. The kick caused her to roll to the center of the clearing, barely missing the campfire. She coughed, spitting out blood and saliva in the process. She didn't know the full extent of the damage from his kick, but she did know it was bad. He came up to her, grabbing her hair and lifting her head and torso off the ground. She braced herself for the pain to come, reaching down into the fire and grabbing a coal. She hissed and growled from the pain, throwing it at the bear's face. It struck him in the eye, letting out a sizzling noise as it hit. She sprang forth from the ground, grabbing his staff and running around behind him. Jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist from behind, she held the staff with both hands, brought it up over his head and down on his neck. She held it there with all her might, choking hm. He thrashed and swung at her, but failed to dislodge her. A minute passed, and he fell to his knees. With a final effort, he stood, ramming his back, and her, into a tree. Her ribs cried out with agony, and she coughed up more blood, but she didn't let go. Fifteen seconds later, he fell to the ground. She held him like that for another minute, ensuring he was dead. Finally, she crawled off him, collapsing to the ground and breathing raggedly.

Gently, she raised her shirt up, trying to see her ribs. A large bulge poked out from its usual position, indicating the presence of a full fracture. She was somewhat surprised it hadn't broken through the skin. Bracing herself from the coming pain, she placed both hands above it, shoving down with all her strength. The agony was indescribable. She cried out in anguish, tears springing to her eyes. Exhausted and out of willpower, she reached for her belt, pulling out a small vial containing a smooth red liquid. She uncorked it, drinking its full contents. The relief that came from that was a blessing, instantly easing her pain and giving her energy. While the potion could heal internal and external damage alike, it failed to set bones. She had to do that herself. If they weren't set properly and she drank such a liquid, it would cause serious deformity.

She stood, barely able to stay on her feet, and walked over to her broken staff. Something was wrong; it wouldn't have naturally broken in such a it carefully, she quickly discovered the reason for her unnecessary pain. The damned bear had scored the branch repeatedly with something sharp, obviously setting it up to break under too much force.

_So much for ending things like men. _Arilenia thought, throwing the branch into the fire. She turned around, reattached her belt, swords, boots, and cloak, then once again stalked back into the forest, duty almost done.

She still had one more to take care of.

* * *

Easily navigating the forest's obstacles, Arilenia sprinted, trying to catch the man that had taken of with Lena. She was getting close. His tracks went from deep and erratic to constant and shallow, indicating he grew tired from running and slowed to a walk. Luckily for Arilenia, she had gone running in the woods with Rory on a regular basis. Being able to traverse through deep forests was second-hand nature for her. Finally, she spotted them ahead, ambling slowly along a barely visible animal trail. Lena was walking along beside Hayden, supported by his strong arms. This man was obviously unaccustomed to the forest, for he wasn't even going in the proper direction. He would've gotten little Lena killed, in all likelihood.

She crept up on them silently, quickly diminishing the few feet to inches. She pulled out her dagger, quickly bringing it to his throat.

"Step away from the girl, very slowly." She said simply, venom dripping from every word. Hayden let go of Lena's hand, raising his arms in a show of surrender. "Look away, Lena. I doubt you want to see me slitting this man's throat. I hope you enjoyed seeing the sunrise this morn, Howe scum, for it is the last one that will ever grace your eyes."

"I know what this must look like to you, but I was bringing Lena back to her family, Andraste be my witness. I don't know what your issue with the arl is, but I am not with Howe anymore; after this, I will be considered a traitor. I defected." Hayden said, voice sincere.

Arilenia removed the blade from his throat, stepping back from him. He turned around to thank her, but she swung her fist out, hitting him with enough force to instantly knock him out. She knelt down beside him, intending to slit his throat anyway, but Lena jumped on top of Hayden, blocking the man with her own small body.

"Lena, please move. This is a very bad man. He cannot be allowed to live; not after what he has done to you." She said, attempting to move the little girl away from the unconscious rogue.

"No he isn't! He helped me!" Lena screamed at her, tears welling in her green eyes. She clutched the rogue's hand, refusing to let go. "You can't hurt him! He- he gave me grubs, and they were really good, and he told me a story about a beautiful warrior named Ari! He taught me all about nobility and honor, and how people can't just do things like what his friend did without consequences! He told me about his little sister who is my age, and said I could meet her one day! You can't just hurt him!" Lena burst into sobs on the last sentence, burying her head in the unconscious man's chest.

Arilenia sighed, considering arguing with the child, but deciding against it. If she killed him, it would scar Lena permanently. She couldn't do it; not when her own feelings were what got Lena in this situation in the first place.

"Very well, Lena. I promise not to hurt him. I will bring him back with us, and your father can decide his fate."

Lena lit up, beaming. She ran to Arilenia, wrapping her legs in a hug and somehow simultaneously jumping up and down. Her joy was infectious. Arilenia grinned as if she hadn't just killed five men just shy of an hour ago. Bending down to sling the rogue over her shoulders, she chastised herself for not thinking about the consequences of knocking the man out. He was built, probably in his mid to late twenties, and heavy as an ox. She felt so brilliant sometimes.

"So tell me about this warrior named Ari that this man told you about..."

* * *

Arilenia, Lena, and Hayden (still being carried by Arilenia) broken through the forest and out into the open village at dawn. Arilenia assumed Duncan was still behind her somewhere, but she was honestly too tired to care. If she had been thinking properly, she would've made him carry the blasted rogue, but her brain shut down when she was in the least bit tired. She was definitely tired. They ambled along the small dirt roads, Lena sharing a riveting tale of the beautiful noble warrior, Ari. Arilenia smiled at the stories the girl was repeating from Hayden, laughing at some of the absurdities. The tales told of a woman as radiant as the sun and chivalrous as the Maker himself. Arilenia had never considered herself overly attractive; she didn't consider herself as absolutely hideous, but she didn't feel as if she had earned the title "Jewel of Highever." She _certainly _wasn't as self-sacrificing and compassionate as the tales made her out to be. Most of the adventures repeated to her by the girl weren't due to some noble deed, they were due to her own stupidity. She hadn't killed a man in the heroic defense of her mother, an assassin just happened to mistake her room for the room of her parents, and she had accidentally killed him when he grabbed her and she shoved, pushing him out the window. Most of the stories were preposterous, but she did enjoy seeing the joy they brought to Lena's face.

Finally, the trio (and Duncan, kind of) arrived at the inn. Arilenia assumed Lena's parents would be there; the infirmary was run by the inn-keepers wife, attached to the main room by a small hallway. It wasn't a huge place, but then again neither was the town. Before finding Lena's parents, Arilenia had to drop off a heavy load in her room. A heavy and snoring load. The looks that the residents of the inn gave her as she carried an unconscious man up the stairs and into a room while holding onto the hand of a little girl were hilarious. She kicked open the door to her rented room, dumping the rogue on the bed. She was greeted heartily by Sam, who found it appropriate to cover her in dog slobber. She took Lena's hand once again, leading her through the main room and into the infirmary.

There, lying on a cot and being wrapped in a magnanimous amount of gauze, was Lena's father. Her mother was there, holding his hand. When Lena saw them, she cried out and ran to them as quickly as she could. Despite his injuries, Jack embraced Lena, tears springing forth from his eyes as he held her to him. He kissed her head tenderly, whispering sweet nothings to her. He looked up at Arilenia, his eyes meeting hers. He nodded his head at her, too overcome with emotion to speak. She smiled from beneath her hood, bowing her head to him and ducking out of the infirmary.

She stopped in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"So, on to Ostagar?" She asked the "stealthy" figure behind her.

"I would assume so. If you are healed enough to ride without passing out, that is." A deep voice answered her, slightly jokingly.

She looked down at her hand, two fingers still dislocated, then up at Duncan.

"I would appreciate some... assistance... in a matter." She said hesitantly, stretching her hand out to him.

"Well I'm not going to kiss it, if that's what you want." He said teasingly, taking her hand and examining it.

She laughed at his joke, about to reply with a witty remark, when Duncan shoved her fingers back into their proper sockets.

"Bloody Maker and Andraste's flaming hairy legs! What the Void?! A little warning next time, Duncan!" she all but shouted, cradling her tender hand to her chest. She glared at him from underneath her hood, but it seemed to have little effect.

"Maybe if you took off your cloak, I would actually be able to see that undoubtedly wicked glare you are shooting at me." Duncan said, unrepentantly.

"If I may interrupt...?" A voice down the hall spoke, walking out of the infirmary, dragging a large chest behind him. Duncan was a very, very lucky man. If she was going to commit murder, it wouldn't be in front of witnesses. Jack counted as a witness.

"Jack, should you be walking? Your burns were extensive." Arilenia said, reaching out to support him.

"And you somehow managed to get out unscathed?" Jack said sarcastically.

"No, but I..."

"No buts about it then, son. I have a debt to repay you for, and its a big 'un. You saved my life; I cannot repay that. However, I do believe I have something that can aid, and I believe you know what I'm talking 'bout."

"Jack, I didn't do what I did for reward. I did it because it was the right thing to do. There is enough wrong in this world; I only desired to put a little right back into it. You didn't deserve to die in that fire, and little Lena didn't deserve to be kidnapped. Those men, however, deserved to die for more reasons than one." Her heart sagged in her chest as she thought about the fact that Lena wouldn't have been taken if not for her. Her company was good for no one; those close to her would inevitably get hurt. Such things came with being on the run and being determined to end the miserable life of a high noble. Letting this family get close was a mistake she wouldn't repeat.

"Regardless, giving you that armor would also be the right thing to do, would it not be? Please, take it. I will not be able to sleep peacefully at night if you go and get yourself killed 'cause you bought some cheap piece of crap and wore it into battle. Please." Jack said, reaching down for the chest again. He picked it up, holding it out to Arilenia, pleading with his eyes for her to accept it. Arilenia sighed, once again resigned. This was an offer she couldn't refuse; it very well might save her life one day.

"Thank you, Jack. I saved your life, and you probably just saved mine. I would say the debt is repaid." Arilenia said, face caressed with the barest of smiles.

"You saved my little girl," Jack said, voice thick with emotion and face serious. "The debt will _never _be repaid. You ever need anything, you come to me, son." A tear escaped from Jack's eye as he clasped Arilenia on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Now go try on that armor, boy! But take a dip first; walking through the woods did nothing for those se'nnights you spent without a proper bath."

Arilenia was thankful for the hood, for she felt herself blush a deep crimson. Personal hygiene was something she always considered herself quite good at. She pulled on her shirt, sniffing herself. She grimaced at the smell; it was pretty rank.

"Don't worry about it kid, we all have those days." Jack slapped her on the back, laughing merrily. "There's a stream not too far out of town that shouldn't be too cold; well, I don't think its frozen over quite yet. Oh and uh keep the clothes. Really." He said, wrinkling his nose.

"Thanks..." Arilenia lugged the chest onto her shoulder and walked out of the hallway, the laughs of Duncan and Jack ringing in her ears.

"Oh, and kid!" Jack called to her, "Ask the innkeeper for some soap! You're gonna need it, son!"

Arilenia gave a very rude gesture (one she had learned from Fergus) in return to his comment, causing him and Duncan to laugh all the harder.

* * *

Arilenia ended up taking Jack's advice, all but begging the innkeeper for some scented soap to clean herself with. He happily obliged her request; she did save his great-aunt's (twice removed on his mother's side) vase, after all. She now found herself stripping off the dirty and bloody clothes, untying her hair and allowing it to cascade around her shoulders and down her back. It was an annoyance and she had considered cutting it more than once, but she had promised her family that she would never cut all of it off again after taking sheers to it when she was ten. It had been on a dare from Rory _and _Fergus; she couldn't just refuse! Unfortunately, her parents hadn't seen it that way. Rory and Fergus both regretted daring her to cut it off, for they greatly admired the silvery-golden locks; even if they had never admitted to it.

She jumped in the freezing stream, gasping for air as the cold water hit her warm body. It immediately sent her shivering, but she withstood the urge to get out. The feeling of the water against her skin was delightful, even if it was sucking her warmth away. She ducked under the water once, enjoying the lack of sound that the water provided. In the water, there was no stress, no urgency, no death or destruction. It was just her and the beauty that it provided. It washed away her sins, cleansing her of the blood that had been caked on her since the attack. Small cloths could only get one to a certain level of cleanliness. She reemerged, flipping the hair and water from her eyes. She scrubbed her hair and body with the sweet soap, enjoying the lilac scent. Cleansing herself of dirt and oil was more satisfying than she could have imagined.

Jumping out of the stream, she examined the contents of the chest. Not only was the armor in there, but Jack had also included a beautifully embroidered cloak (with a very nice hood) and mask. They were black, silver thread interwoven around the perimeters. It contrasted perfectly, reminding her of the stars that shone even in the blackness of night. There was always light in the darkness. Justice in an unjust world? He had also included as smaller pair of black leggings, a puffy white shirt, and some fresh bandages for her wounds. Arilenia narrowed her eyes. Where these his _wife's_? If she were actually male, she would've been offended. As it was, she admired the guess he made at her actual size. While Arilenia was more athletic and tall than the other woman, they would do nicely. The bandages were first, and were definitely uncomfortable. While her back had healed very nicely and she didn't really need bandages to protect them, her chest was another matter entirely. She wouldn't be able to go about acting like a man while having curves; she had a feeling not many people would buy it. She wound them around her chest, pulling them as tightly as she could. Maker, was it uncomfortable! She hadn't anticipated the discomfort and slight inability to breath, but had a feeling she would grow accustomed to it. Next were her actual articles of clothing; if she could manage to move with her chest bound so securely. She put them on, strapping each piece of dragon bone armor on afterwards. The boots fit her feet perfectly, and all the other pieces were adjustable. The black armor gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting and absorbing it at the same time. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Armor on and adjusted, she slung her black leather belt around her hips, hooking her swords onto it once again. She swung the cloak around her shoulders, attaching it with a simple silver pendant. It fell perfectly to the tops of her feet, barely brushing the ground gently. The mask fit snuggly over her mouth and nose, ending right below her eyes. If her hood ever blew off, she would never need to fear about being discovered. She braided her hair tightly, tying it off with a leather thong and tucking it back into the nape of her armor. She pulled on the black gloves that completed the set, quickly pulling up her hood when she heard someone approaching,

Duncan called out, asking if she was decent, to which she replied yes. He had their horses in tow, Sam trailing along behind.

"Time to go, my lady." Duncan said, taking in the view of her in her full armor. She looked at her reflection in the water, admiring the view. She looked like a man. A rather small man, but a man nonetheless. She hopped onto Abdullah, riding out of the woods and back into the town. She stopped as they were passing Jack's shop, hoping to see him and his family once again before departing. Her luck held, for he was there waiting for them with travel sacks full of various dried fruits and meats. Her stomach let out a loud gurgle at the sight.

"Just some nourishment for the road." Jack said, assessing her in the armor. "Looks good, son. Real good. Use it well, stay alive, the usual. Don't get dead or nothing'." He said, giving her a smile.

"Take care of yourself, Jack. And thank you; for everything." She said nodding down to him from her white mount. He saluted her in return, waving to them as they rode off.

"Wait!" he called to her, confusion written on his face. "I don't think I ever got your name!" he admitted, cheeks tinged slightly pink. Duncan chuckled from her side, clearly amused.

The considered the question for a moment. Obviously, she would have to have a name; most people did. _Arilenia _was far too feminine to use. Even if it wasn't, it was a rather distinct name. If any Howe men heard it, they would most likely know it was her. Her name had to be something masculine, and it had to easily came to mind. If someone shouted to her on the battlefield, and she didn't hear the warning because she didn't recognize the name, she wouldn't be able to live down the shame.

"Arian." She said after a pause, testing the name on her tongue. It was strange; like a limb she didn't know she had, but had always been there. Somehow, it fit. "My name is Arian.

From that moment, Arilenia Surrexerunt de Cousland was dead, deceased alongside her family. The only thing that remained was a wraith that lived for two purposes only: justice, and vengeance. From her perspective, they would be one and the same.

* * *

That night, as Arian fell asleep under a canopy of trees, gazing up at the stars, a shocking thought hit her with a sudden realization that took her breathe away. She sat up, and turned to Duncan, frustration and concern written across her features.

"I forgot about the damned rogue!"

* * *

Hayden awoke to darkness, pain coursing through his temples.

_Am I with the Maker?_

He sat up, floating in a maze of darkness. He tried to stand and move forward, but suddenly fell of a steep cliff, smacking his face into the ground.

_Definitely not with the Maker. I must have gone to the Void. Serves me right._

But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out an outline of a bed, hearth, and nightstand. Was he in an inn? He remembered rescuing Lena, running through the woods, then... the kid. The kid knocked him out! Did he carry him here? And why in the Void had he spared him? His head gave another sharp jolt of pain as he sat up, squinting out the window and into the night sky at the stars.

Maker-forsaken brat.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading everyone! I really can't tell you how much it means to me that you would take the time to read my work. Please review and critique! I would love some feedback. If there's something you guys would like to see in the future, just let me know, whatever it is. If you want Arian stuck out in the middle of the desert with Alistair and without pants, I will try to make it work somewhere! That's just an example of something... you don't actually have to ask for that. Anyway, please review, like, follow, whatever pleases you! Side note, corpulent cacafuego means a very, very fat swaggering braggart. Let's hear it for archaic insults! Have a blessed week everybody. :) Also, I should be able to update more than once this next week... gotta love fall break. I also changed the story's cover photo, and will probably do so repeatedly in the future. Give a comment to which one you like the best!


	5. Ostagar: The City of Ruins

Arian and Duncan marched through the sodden forests and marshes of southern Fereldan for days after endless days. While the untamed, primitive beauty of uncivilized areas always appealed to the feral side of her personality, the marshes of Fereldan brought nothing but aggravation to Arian. Frigid water soaked through her boats with every step, leaving her tender feet raw and chilled. Blood oozed from wrinkled blisters on the soles of her feet and mud caked every area of her body. By the end of the first se'nnight, she was bone weary and eternally chilled. Convinced that the bleakness of southern Fereldan would never leave her body, her mood grew darker with every step. Duncan, however, seemed to be quite enjoying himself. To Arian, his step seemed to grow stronger and revitalized the closer to Ostagar they went. She silently pondered why the man, usually so stoic and solemn, was now looking as if he went to meet a bride, or even a son.

"Duncan," Arian spoke with a gruff voice, not bothering to conceal her displeasure, "while this trek has been thoroughly enjoyable, from what you told me, I initially believe that we would have arrived days ago." Her words were colder than the blasted forest and the archedemon's soul combined.

Duncan looked back at his new recruit, trying to hide a smile. Sarcasm dripped from every word that left her lips. She obviously wasn't accustomed to the moist southern earth, and it was showing. She had long ago removed her hood and mask, and now had small branches and leaves littered through her long tresses. When they set out, her hair had been a luminous blonde, shimmering with the barest hints of silver. The unusual color now resembled tarnished gold, shine obscured from the excess of mud. The dead scowl that graced her features was understandable (as those same features were splattered with mud), though he had to give her credit for her resilience. Despite all she had been through, she still maintained her priorities. Not once had she voiced her complaint, which surprised him more than he would have admitted. The nobility he had been acquainted with often had theoretically altruistic personalities that were revealed as false when reality set in. The tales spun by their nannies describing heroes of old rarely included the less glorious details. Telling well-fed young ones of frostbite and starvation wasn't typically commonplace in the warm, cozy recesses of noble castles. It was unnecessary.

"We are making good pace. That being said, there is still much ground to cover; the rest of today and perhaps a day or two after. From here, we will progress through the hinterlands to the ruins of Ostagar, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds." Duncan replied.

"Why Ostagar?" Arian inquired with an arched brow.

"The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here, even if we fight a different foe in this forest."

"I assume there are more practical reasons for this location? I hardly thought of you as a man who considered lore and history as important. Our battle will be short-lived should the location be strategically inferior." Arian said quite reasonably.

"Indeed. While in ruins, Ostagar was constructed with structural integrity at the forefront of the builders' minds. It will give us the high ground in the coming battle and will aid in controlling the flow of the battle. Other than that, " Duncan paused at the thought that entered his mind, "the King has a very... specific ideal of how he wants the battle to commence."

"Specific? Allow me to guess, Cailan would risk the battle on grounds of glory?" Arian asked, part bewildered and part affronted by such an irrational idea.

"I wouldn't have stated it so blatantly, but yes, _King_ Cailan doesn't seem to consider practically as the most important aspect to the battle. However, one ruler's foolishness won't necessarily adversely affect the outcome. Cailan will get his glorious victory, and the rest of us will hopefully get our lives." Duncan said, lips curled on the edges into a smile.

Arian only grunted in response, clearly not amused.

The rest of the journey lasted for two sodden days of hiking and groaning. However, the sight that met Arian upon their arrival was magnificent. Towering stone walls composed a solid fortress accessible only by a single stone archway on one side, and a bulwark on the other. The ground that it was built on cut off abruptly below it in a sheer drop, making it nigh impossible to climb. While the fortress was crumbling in some places, the stones used to construct it still held firm in most. Ostagar was in ruins, true, but it was still beautiful.

Arian and Duncan approached on horse back, passing several sentries on the ride in. They immediately recognized Duncan, stiffening to attention the moment they saw him. He nodded his head at them graciously and they relaxed. Arian wondered what kind of reputation this man had to cause their reaction and how exactly he had won it. One of the sentries nodded at her as she passed, and she regarded him silently from under her mask. He seemed like a good fellow, all muscle and twinkling eyes. He couldn't have been a day over nineteen. He looked so much like Fergus in his youth that she felt a lump form in her throat._ "Perhaps Fergus is alive. Perhaps he's here, waiting with a hot meal and a pretty wench. Perhaps-" _She cut that thought of, refusing to give in to hope. Tearing her eyes away from the sentry, she blanked out her face, hoping her features didn't belay her thoughts. Such feelings served her no purpose now. Thoughts of Fergus would have to wait. For now, she had a battle to win, a Blight to defeat, an arl to kill, and a castle to reclaim. She let out a breathe at this though, headache already forming.

As she thought of the battle, she considered how truly little she knew of it. She hadn't been briefed on what her father's tactics were, or even when the battle would take place. "Duncan," she said, attempting to learn more. "What's happening?"

He regarded her silently, obviously pondering over her question. "I suppose you are asking what is happening here in particular and why we are here, not questioning the laws of the universe." She rolled her eyes at him, clearly not amused by his sarcasm. Nodding her head for him to continue, she turned her gaze once again to scrutinize the remains of Ostagar. He couldn't blame her; it was magnificent.

"The King's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. A large cavern opened up less than seventy kilomenters from here and our scouts tell us more darkspawn are pouring out day by day. With them marching directly our way, it's safe to say that they know about our presence here and are preparing for battle. They are currently grouped out in the Wilds and will march in no more than two or three days." He replied.

"Why were you so intent on finding a new recruit so close to the battle? Would it not be dangerous for the Warden Commander to leave his people at such a critical time?" Arian asked, eyes narrowed at him.

He glanced over at her, surprised at her insight. "Firstly, I hadn't anticipated it to take as long as it had. I suspected a single se'enight tops, round trip with hard riding. While recruiting you did take critical time, I won't lie; the Wardens need you desperately. There are only a few Wardens in Fereldan at the moment, and every single one of us are here. Furthermore, I had originally assumed I would be recruiting more than one. I had five dossiers from Highever and the surrounding areas." He sighed, eyes growing distant.

"But why me specifically? Surely dozens, if not hundreds, of skilled men would willingly join the Wardens. Why traverse all the way across Fereldan for a recruit, even if you had done it to find more than one? Surely you would be able to find as many as you needed in the army campsite." She pressed him as they walked across the high stone bridge, now leading their horses. Large chunks appeared to have been ripped off the bridge, most likely from ancient catapults. Arian made the mistake of looking down and almost lost her lunch of stale bread and water. It was hundreds of feet to the ground; you fall from this height and _splat_. Warden pudding.

"The Wardens require a very particular set of talents as well as a strong mind, will, and character. While some men might be skilled enough with a blade to join our order, they would not be trust worthy enough for our tasks. There is also a certain gravity that is required. Most do not understand the extent of the Blight; it must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Fereldan will inevitably fall." Duncan said as they finished crossing the bridge. Arian scrutinized the area for any possible dangers as they passed under a giant stone archway, casting them both in shadows. The shade was a chilling confinement from the sun, but the barrier that the fortress provided from the biting wind was a great reprieve. Arian was sure her nose and cheeks were red from the cold under her mask. She drew her hood up further around her face as a shiver found its way down her spine. She recalled that the long, cold nights in the north seemed so much less foul. Perhaps the cold that surrounded her was less from weather and more from heartbreak. She had always had her family to warm her heart. Now all that pierced the numbness surrounding her soul was the thought of revenge. Thinking of Howe gurgling on his own blood brought her a nice, warm feeling.

"Ho there, Duncan!" A voice startled her out of her thoughts, causing her to instinctively reach for her blade. Her eyes came to rest on a tall man with thick, golden hair. He was clad in pure golden armor and his eyes sparkled blue. The royal symbol was emblazoned on his chest and a small smile tilted his stubbly mouth upwards.

"King Cailan?" Duncan said, obviously surprised. He reached out to grasp the golden man's proffered hand, shaking it firmly. "I didn't expect-"

"A royal welcome?" The king replied, a smug grin on his lips. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

Duncan's face fell at his words, and it was no wonder. The king's treatment of such a serious happening seemed like something a child would do. Arian silently wondered about all of what Duncan had to put up with from their king.

"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty." Duncan said, barely suppressing a sigh.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side after all! Glorious! The other Wardens told me you had found a promising new recruit. I take it this is he?"

Arian cocked her eyebrow at Duncan, silently questioning him. Just how had he informed the other Warden's of her during their trip?

Duncan blatantly ignored her questioning gaze, instead offering introductions. "Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty."

"No need to be so formal Ducan, we'll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?" He asked, eyes roaming over Arian's masked face. He glanced at Duncan as if to ask "Will it bite?" before extending his hand.

"My name is Arian, Your Majesty." Arian replied calmly, grasping the king's hand in her gloved fingers.

"If you don't mind my asking, you seem..." The king paused, as if searching for the right word. "Familiar." He settled on he angled his head to try to glance under Arian's hood.

"I am but a humble member of your illustrious nation, Your Majesty." Arian replied through a forced grin, not willing to reveal any details of her identity. Arian saw Duncan stifle a laugh by coughing into his hand, and tried not to glare at him. She avoided the king's gaze as much as possible; it would do no good to have Cailan recognize her. Arian had known the king since birth and had been on a first name basis for just as long. They had become fast friends when the Couslands visited Denerim, and saw each other every summer as well as at other random noble gatherings. Arian hadn't seen the king for over three years, ever since she had run away from home to train. After learning to take her responsibilities so seriously, she had foregone many noble parties and vacationing to Denerim during the summer. Instead, she kept the peace at home, allowing her brother to take a break from his strenuous duties. She missed the king and his company dearly, and seeing him almost made her wish she had accepted his proposal long ago, but at eight years her senior, she had barely been fifteen when he had proposed; too young in her estimate to seriously consider marriage. Twocx se'ennights later, a heart broken Cailan announced his engagement to Anora.

"Uh-huh." The king said in a dead pan voice, clearly not convinced. "But in that case I am please to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. If you don't mind my asking, from where do you hail?"

"I-" Arian stopped herself, considering her answer. "I suppose I hail from everywhere and nowhere now, Your Majesty. I have no home in particular." Arian said the last sentence in a quiet, forlorn voice. She saw Duncan's face fall in her peripheral as he regarded her silently.

"I see. In that case, I am glad you now have the Wardens to call home. Things will change once we defeat the darkspawn, Arian. But for now, I suppose we must attend to war." The king said in his classically chipper voice. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

"You're far too kind, Your Majesty." Arian said, clasping her hands over her chest and bowing in a low salute. It was odd saluting her childhood friend, but the memories of him seemed like they came from a distant life time or a fleeting dream. Nothing before the attack seemed real.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies." Cailan said, rolling his eyes for added emphasis.

"Your uncle sends his greetings, and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a se'nnight." Duncan said from Arian's left, spooking her. She mentally chastised herself. Any sound or movement that she hadn't foreseen seemed to startle her since the attack, and she hardly wanted to be jumping around in an army camp. The last thing she needed was a group of soldiers discovering her ability to be startled; one of them would probably get a blade through the throat by attempting to scare her.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters already, and tomorrow will be no different." Cailan said, walking back towards his guards.

"You sound very confident of that, Your Majesty. I hadn't realized things were going so well." Arian said, frown apparent in her voice.

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of Darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon." The king replied, voice dropping into a whine like a child who had just been told "no" for the first time.

"Disapointed, Your Majesty?" Duncan asked.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king rides with the legendary Grey Wardens against a tainted God! But I suppose this will have to do." Cailan replied, completely serious. Arian had never considered Cailan to be a grave or an overly-mature man, but this side of him was somewhat new to her. She had never seen how very much like a spoiled child he acted. "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Fairwell, Grey Wardens!" Cailan called, walking off into the heart of the ruins.

After he had passed out of earshot, Arian raised her eyebrows at Duncan. "That was... concerning." She said, turning to him with more questions formed than answered.

"What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here already." Duncan replied to her questioning gaze.

"Yet you don't sound very reassured." Arian stated, attempting to get to the heart of the matter. Duncan glanced around, nodding to his left and gesturing for the two to begin walking down their previous path.

"Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us." Duncan said to her in a conspiratorial tone. "I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling." They continued walking until they reached what appeared to be an old courtyard or entrance, surrounded by intricately carved stone Tevinter statues and crumbling pillars. The stone beneath Arian's feet was mossy and slick but in remarkable condition. She breathed in, smelling earth, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of mabari war hounds. There might have been a faint background scent of mutton over a fire, but she was so ravished she couldn't be sure.

"I find it hard to believe that you would act on slight 'feeling' alone." Arian said, suspicious that there was far more to this "feeling" than Duncan let on. He knew for certain that an archdemon existed, she simply didn't know how he knew. Did it have to do with being a Grey Warden in general, being the Warden Commander, or simply being Duncan? "What would you have him do?"

"Wait for reinforcements. We sent a call out west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but it will be many days before they can join us. Our numbers in Fereldan are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the joining ritual without delay."

Arian's eyebrows curved into a gentle arch at this revelation. "What ritual? What do you mean?" She asked, careful not to reveal her thoughts. If there was a"ritual" as Duncan put it, it was highly likely that they would be doing something unpleasant, and that unpleasantness resulted in somehow knowing whether an archdemon existed. She ran through the possibilities in her mind, but without knowing any of what was involved in said ritual, couldn't come to a strong conclusion. She planted her feet into the ground and folded her arms across her chest to show the seriousness of her question.

"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual called the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden." Duncan answered her evasively.

_"In order to become a Grey Warden?" _Arian questioned herself. Duncan just gave away more than he probably desired; he hadn't said "to join" the Wardens or even "to be initiated into" the Wardens. Whatever this ritual involved, it physically changed them into Wardens. Her mind whirled over the possibilities of what was to come next. While she held no fear of what was to come (whether that be an untimely, gruesome death or an appointing to an area of power) she was aggravated. True, Duncan hadn't told her anything so it would be expected that she wouldn't know much on the subject, but she despised her own ignorance.

"What exactly is involved in this ritual?" Arian asked, clearly assessing every word Duncan spoke.

"Just know that the ritual is brief, but does require some preparation." Duncan walked over to a gaping hole in the fortress to look down over the lands. His eyes grew distant, and he let out a weary sigh. "We must begin soon." He said, voice little more than a whisper. Duncan said that it required preparation, which caused Arian to believe that this ritual definitely was composed of far more than words. Silently, she tried to place this miscellaneous pieces together.

"Duncan." Arian spoke with all the gentleness she could muster, bringing Duncan out of his stoic reverie. He retreated from the broken wall, and they continued walking towards where the army was camped. Passing through the atrium, the came across yet another long bridge. Arian promised herself she wouldn't look down this time. "Why is this joining ritual so secret?" Arian guessed that there must be something gruesome involved if they were willing to disclose absolutely no details. She felt her stomach churn with uneasiness for what was to come, and wondered if she was the only recruit going through this. Surely there would be others.

Duncan sighed at her question, clearly mentally debating what he could and couldn't tell her. "The joining ritual is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except to say that you will learn all in good time." She snorted at his answer, not appreciating the secrets and evasiveness.

_"All in good time?" _she thought to herself. _"Riiiiiight. I'll probably figure out what this ritual is about right as I'm choking on my own blood." _

"Until then," Duncan said a little bit louder, eyes slightly narrowed at her unlady-like snort. "you must trust that what is done is necessary."

"Do not fret, Duncan. I trust that whatever you think is necessary, is. However, I find it hard to bask in mindless bliss, not knowing what the future brings. It isn't you I am frustrated at, but the feeling of not knowing. I am a woman of action, not oblivion." Arian replied, fists clenching tightly into balls. A thought seemed to strike her, and she looked around suspiciously. "I, uh, I am a _man_of action." She mumbled. "That being said, what do you need me to do? Am I involved with this preparation?"

"Yes, but preparation will not begin until dawn. The sun is already low, and I fear that the preparations would not be completed in time. That being said, I would suggest you recuperate. It has been a hard few days for you, I am sure." Duncan's voice lowered with pity.

"I don't need coddling." Arian replied briskly, jaw clenched. She didn't need, nor want, his pity.

Duncan didn't reply to her cold comment, simply inclining his head towards her. While his body language spoke acquiescence to her wishes, his eyes said that the pitying was far from over. Arian didn't care whether he felt pity towards her, only that he didn't show it. Pity implied weakness. "Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. There is another Warden in the camp named Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have other business that I need to attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to. Sam can stay with me for the time being, and I will take the horses to the stables."

Arian gave him a low salute in return to Duncan's words as he continued down the stone bridge, leading the horses. Arian stopped, watching Duncan leave. It was one of the first times since the beginning of their journey that they had been separated. She wondered absently when exactly she had grown attached to Duncan, and resisted that attachment with everything she had. If she didn't survive the coming battle, there would be no true loss. If he didn't survive, and she did? Arian didn't think she would be able to live with herself. It wasn't in her nature to be unaffected by the deaths of those closest to her. Seeing as almost everyone she had grown up with, had been close with, was currently dead, she certainly didn't want to lose Duncan. While she would never trust him with emotional struggles or feelings, she knew he was a trustworthy man on the battlefield. He would always do the best for the whole, even if that included her death, but somehow such a proposition didn't bother her. People able to make such ruthless decisions were mandatory in wars. She understood, and was even grateful. She doubted she could make the same decisions he had and remain so strong.

Stopping to examine the ruins of Ostagar more thoroughly now that Duncan had left, Arian was even more impressed. Nothing short of equal parts beautiful, terrifying, and glorious, she understood why Cailan would wish to pick this place for the final battle. Ostagar sat atop steep rocky inclines, almost untouchable. The high bridges and walkways would ensure that nothing but the best would be capable of scaling the advanced architecture. If they fell, they would be falling hundreds of feet. Arian once again walked to the stoned walls of the bridge, placing her hands atop the cool rock. She felt the chill even through her gloves. Arian refused to tear her eyes away from the wild landscape before her, instead openly admiring all that was laid out. The landscape rolled in gentle, tree covered hills. Bright oranges, greens, and reds met her eyes. The sun shone down from the horizon, bathing the entire thing in a glowing, golden light.

She wished her family was here to see it.

Brusquely clearing her throat from the lump that had rudely formed there, she turned her back on the beautiful scenery. Such things were not her life anymore; she now had priorities to attend to. Perhaps she would return to the world of light and beauty after she had won this battle and killed the arl, but for now such beautiful things only weakened her defenses. She couldn't afford that.

Finishing the rest of the walk across the smooth stone bridge, Arian was ridiculously relieved when she reached the other side in one piece. She was not a woman of many fears, but height had always been one of them. Perhaps the only one. Before she had learned how to swim, she had been deathly afraid of water due to an incident with her brother where she had been close to drowning. On a dare at the home of the Arl of Redcliffe, she had attempted to climb a tree overhanging a fast-flowing river to retrieve an arrow that had gotten lodged in the bark from her brother's archery practice. She had been nine at the time, and prone to carelessness and irrationality. Her feet were off the ground as soon as her brother had started the dare. Climbing the slippery bark had presented no challenge to her; she had always been an excellent climber. However, when she leaned on a dead branch that snapped and fell with a loud _crack!, _she had fallen with it. The only thing that met her was the black, frigid water. Grasping the fallen branch for all she had, she managed to stay afloat until the current pulled her under the water and her foot lodged itself between two rocks. In that moment, she was certain she was going to die. To say she was surprised when she woke up a day later in the cozy guest chambers of a castle would be an extreme understatement. A stable hand had heard the commotion caused by her and her brother, running to the rescue. While he was probably a year or two younger than her brother, he was strong swimmer and pulled her out of the water with ease. Later, she was told that the boy had resuscitated her, as she wasn't breathing. She didn't know who the boy was, but she had always wished she had known him. She had inquired about him, of course; unfortunately, he had been sent off to the Chantry for templar training. Wherever he was, Arian wished him happiness. Funny how such memories could so easily come back to mind; she hadn't thought of that boy in years.

After the incident, water had been all but ruined for her. However, one summer's day when the sun shone enough to cause sweat rivulets to fall down Arian's back, she had avoided her tutor and run out to the beach below her home. The water was cold, but peaceful. She sat there overlooking the gently swaying currents for hours until Master Aldous had found her. The older man had taken one look at her, and decided that swimming was a trait that every noble born young lady should know. Him offering to take the next moon cycle to teach her to swim shocked her to the core; Master Aldous always went off on tirades about the heinousness of women trying to do manly things. Needless to say, he threw a fit worse than her mother when Arian started sword training. Reflecting on it now, Arian believed that her old teacher had seen fear in her eyes as she gazed over the water and wanted her to face it; that was a lesson she would never forget. She was beyond grateful to Aldous for teaching her all that he had, and missed him sorely. She would have given anything to be popped over the head with his ruler once again. Such a common and known thing all those years ago now seemed foreign and forgotten. Arian still remembered the way Master Aldous' hands felt over hers as he taught her to hold a quill and the odd smell that followed him. He constantly smelled of ink, paper, and something distinctly him. She would probably never be able to hold a book without remembering him teaching her how to read.

She smiled as she remembered him catching her asleep at her studies in the library one day. Having stayed up all night the night before training her new Arabian, she hadn't lasted past noon. Before passing out right at the wooden table, she had grabbed a random text off the shelves and placed it in her lap to give herself an out if she was caught sleeping. Aldous came in a few hours later, startling her awake. When he questioned her about exactly what she had been doing, she innocently answered that she had been reading. Looking down at the tome in her lap, she noticed that not only was it in an ancient Tevinter dialect, it was upside down. The "uh-huh... Reading." look that Aldous had given her was priceless.

Maker, she missed him.

Now that she was alone, Arian released a great sigh she had been holding in, glancing back one last time at the sinking sun. Shaking her head to clear her beloved memories, she forced herself to face the present. She had responsibilities right now and Master Aldous would have been ashamed if he heard she failed in those duties because of day dreaming. He had taught her better than that. Steeling herself for the possibilities to come, she forced herself to place one foot in front of the other. Determinedly, Arian walked into the main ruins of Ostagar in search of the man named Alistair.

For some reason, that name sounded familiar.

* * *

Arian made her way through the campsite avoiding any conversation. She was blessedly conspicuous as she weaved between the sweaty bodies of soldiers and temporary repair stations set up by blacksmiths. Oddly enough, out of the hundreds of people present, she couldn't seem to spot more than two women. Both were surrounded by a group of lustful men. Arian was suddenly very content to be dressed as a man.

The Ostagar ruins were huge. Boisterously colored tents sprung up almost everywhere, dogs barked, and soldier celebrated with drinks and jovial tunes. The only region of the ruins that seemed to have a dark cloud surrounding it was the area in which the Circle was positioned. An area almost entirely separated with stone and guarded by Templars housed the mages. Their consciousnesses seemed to be in the fade as they were conducting some type of ritual. She didn't approach the area for the glares on the Templars faces clearly showed that visitors were not welcome. An elderly woman was standing outside the room, clad in mage robes. She nodded her greetings towards the woman and received a greeting in return.

Wandering over to one of the stalls with the intention of finding someone who was acquainted with Alistair so she could locate the man, her eyes came to rest upon one of the most beautiful bows she had ever seen. She didn't know what it was about this particular bow that struck her so thoroughly; it was plain and had almost no carving on it, but the wood was obviously crafted with love and the utmost care. It wasn't in the main area of the stall with the other intricately carved bows, but off to the side. She glanced around in the attempt to find the master of this particular booth to no avail. Arian did, however, spot a young elf man around the back of the booth polishing a sword. She guessed him to be about her age, possibly a year or two younger. She had always had difficulty guessing the ages of elves; they matured quickly then seemed to just stop aging altogether. Lucky bastards.

"Excuse me," she called around to him, careful to keep her voice sufficiently low and masculine. "That bow over there.."

Before she was able to finish her questioning, a large, fat hand clamped around her left shoulder from behind. In that instant, she struck. Grabbing the man's wrist instinctively and dislodging it from her shoulder, she pulled his arm forward while simultaneously reaching back with her feet to kick his legs out from under him. The man flew forward into the stand and onto the ground, and she instantaneously straddled his back, placing him into a choke-hold. Her knife was in her hand faster than the blink of an eye, and she pressed the sharp blade to his neck.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me? Are you with Howe?" she whispered dangerously into his ear.

"Woah now little mister! With who, now? Didn't mean to cause ya no harm. I'm the owner of this here stand, you see!" The fat man replied, trying to raise his hands in a show of surrender. She glanced up at the elf in the back to confirm this man's story, only to see him attempting to smother an amused smile by rubbing his hand over his mouth. The elf looked oddly satisfied to see this man in his current position. Raising her eyebrow at him to question him only brought a forlorn look to his face.

"Don't bother with that sorry lot. He's dumb and deaf." The man replied for the elf.

"I see." Said Arian, unwilling to quite let the man go but doing so regardless. "Then I suppose I'll simply have to accept your word. Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way," Arian said as the man snorted and rubbed his neck where she had held the knife. "I have a question about a bow that caught my eye."

The man's oily face lit up as this bit of new information, and his demeanor instantly changed into that of a sales man. "Of course, young master! Which one of my fine craftings caught yer eye?" he asked. "This one here is a replica of an ancient Orlesian bow. The bow master-"

She held up her hand to cut his rambling off. She wasn't in the mood to play the bargaining game, and had little patience to deal with him. "No. That one right there." She said pointing to the carefully crafted bow. "Is it for sale?" Glancing back at the elf man, she saw that his mouth had fallen into a little "o". Whether that was due to her brusqueness or her interest in that particular weapon, she couldn't be sure.

"Now why would a man of your caliber be interested in a sloppy work like that? Hardly fit for battle, it is." He replied.

Ignoring his question, she was growing even more frustrated with the slovenly sales man. "Answer the question; is for sale, or is it not?"

"Oh, why not. Well I'd estimate it at about what, five sliver?" the man questioned himself, picking up the bow to examine it.

"_Five _silver?" She questioned in disbelief. The bow, while nothing fancy, was quite remarkable. It had to have been worth at least half a sovereign, possibly a whole one. Passing the bow over for her to examine, he seemed fairly pleased with himself.

"I am a generous man, after all! Perhaps we-" the man was cut of mid sentence by the frantic waving of the elf who looked clearly displeased. He was gesturing to himself and the bow, making wild gesture that clearly spoke "not for sale". At least, not at that price. The elf man didn't seem half as deaf to her as he did to the other man. She raised an eyebrow at this.

"Did you craft this?" she asked the elf directly, anticipating an answer. It was clear he could hear her. Whether or not he could speak was a different matter. The man nodded his head up and down vigorously, happy to have caught her attention.

"Get out of here you worthless slob!" The man said as he pushed the poor elf away and into the ground. "Useless, ungrateful slave!" The spat down onto him, and the elf flinched, clearly anticipating a beating. The man brought the elf up by the collar of his shirt and was about to strike him in the face when Arian grabbed his fist, squeezing until she felt a nice pop, to make it clear that he would not harm a helpless opponent whilst she was present. She wrenched his grip off the elf, forcing the man to lower the defenseless youth to the ground.

"Slave? It was to my understanding that slavery was abolished quite awhile ago." She spoke in barely suppressed loathing. Out of all that could get a rise out of her, slavery and prejudice was right there at the number one spot. She detested it.

"Now look here at my big ol' mouth. Did I say _'slave'_? See, I meant 'indentured servant". Lil ol' Iachon here promised to help me out 'round the shop as long as I got him out of the alienage. See, mother and father dearest left him there as a wee lad. Unfortunately for him, he owes me room and board for staying with me, and doesn't earn enough to pay said room and board off. Quite the," the man said looking for the correct term. "unfortunate circumstance." He said, smiling a greasy grin. The elf man looked down at himself with a glare, appearing to chastise himself for his own stupidity.

"How much debt has this man incurred?" she asked, once again looking down at the bow.

"Good question, that is. I'd say at least six sovereigns worth. Not to mention the five silvers he used to get the supplies for that bow." The man said, confident in his ability to keep his pet forever. It was unfeasible that a slave would come up with six sovereigns out of nowhere.

Unfortunately for the man, Arian was no slave.

"Well in that case," Arian said, changing the subject. "I'll take the bow. Five silvers you said? Well that doesn't quite seem fair. I'll pay you double what he paid for the supplies." She said, handing over ten silver from her royal coin purse.

"Why thank ye son that's very generou-"

"I'm not done yet." She said, blue eyes blazing silver with rage. "From my perspective, you were just the sponsor. That young man is the one who did the real work. That being said, I think I'll pay him for his craftsmanship directly. When I originally saw that bow, I thought that it must be worth at least a sovereign, but I happen to love it _sooo much_ that I would like to give a little bit of..." Arian paused just as the man had, mocking him to her heart's content. "a tip." She finished, smiling from the confines of her mask. Counting out seven large golden coins, she walked over to the elf, opening his hand and placing the coins into his palm before curling his fingers around it. Keeping her hands around his, she smiled up at him. "I suggest you go pay off that lech while I'm still here to oversee it." She said, placing a hand on his back to guide him forward. His eyes were wide with shock. He appeared absolutely incredulous, and quite understandably so. Why would a stranger risk "his" neck to help out a man "he" didn't even know?

Iachon walked over timidly, handing the man six of the seven precious golden coins. In all likelihood, the boy hadn't seen so much money in all his life. Turning around quickly and practically running back over to Arian, Iachon looked as if a volcano was about to explode. He wasn't too far off.

The man's face went from fat and sedated to bright red and contorted from rage in an instant. As soon as he registered what had just happened, his gaze met Arian's with a murderous intent. As he came stomping over to her, she held her ground with a bored look in her eyes. Secretly, adrenaline had started pumping through her veins when she determined that she would help Iachon. The man wasn't prepared for the fight to come, but she was. She would never admit it, but she had subconsciously been hoping for a fight. It had been days since her last one, and pain helped to ground her mind and prevent her from going off the deep end. Fighting was all she had left.

The man threw the first punch with all his weight behind it. Time slowed down for her as she took in his every movement. The first odd thing she noticed was that his punch wasn't aimed at her; it was aimed at Iachon. That was the worst possible thing this man could have done to himself.

Not even considering the thought of holding back, Arian stepped in front of Iachon, easily deflecting the man's blow with her left forearm. The man's momentum brought him forward even after she had blocked. Taking this into account, Arian brought her right leg up, delivering a swift kick to the man's temple in the blink of an eye. As she struck, mud flew off her boot, covering the man's face in the grimy dirt. It seemed the universe was determined to add insult to injury to this man; not like he didn't deserve it.

He fell into a large rain puddle in a giant lump, knocked out could on his face. Just to be considerate, she kicked him over so he wouldn't drown in his sleep. Satisfied that her work was done, she dusted her hands off and turned back to Iachon with the intent of helping him determine where next to go.

She never got the chance.

In a moment that was as fast as her own blow, Iachon picked her up in a crushing hug, spinning her around and silently crying tears of joy and elation. Timidly, as she was unaccustomed to too much touching, she drew her arms around his skinny torso in return, patting him on the back as he wept into her shoulder. She relaxed as he refused to let go, gently rubbing circles on his back to calm his emotions. Her brother used to do the exact same for her. Her tears were infrequent, but he had always been there when they came. Arian refused to let this boy shed tears without someone there to comfort him; Fergus wouldn't have.

As he calmed down, he released her and wiped the remainder of tears from his pale cheeks. His fair skin was somewhat flushed, contrasting with his long, dark hair. Something seemed to dawn on him, and he looked around fearfully, beginning to gesture wildly. She spoke to him soothingly in an attempt to calm him, grabbing his hands gently to ensure his attention was on her.

"Please, slow down. You're free now. I'm not going to hurt you." She said in a calm voice. Iachon took a calming breath, and began making fluid movement with his hands. Because of the time she had used to spend in an orphanage at Highever, she knew he was communicating with her through sign language. Her heart fell as she realized that this boy really was truly unable to speak.

Drawing her attention back from her thoughts, she focused once again on what he was signing.

_"Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Cant go back."_

She looked up at him, signing back to him in return. He seemed very shocked that she knew hand language, but grateful nonetheless.

_"Please, explain."_

_"Mother dead, father dropped me off in alienage years ago, said he would find Dalish and be back. He is Dalish. Never came back. Don't know what to do. Nowhere to go. Alienage won't have me back. Was arrested for stealing a loaf of bread, but big man said he would pay for my crime if I helped him. Promised to help me find Dalish. Lied." _

Iachon's movements became more frantic with each word his signed, desperation apparent in his gaze. While Arian would have simply felt sorry for the boy and sent him on his way with a few sovereigns in any other circumstance, she somehow knew she couldn't now. Fergus would have taken the time and care to help him reach his destination, and she knew what she had to do.

_"Come with me." _

_"What?" _Iachon signed incredulously.

_"Come with me, and I will help you find the Dalish, but it must wait until after the battle. Until then you can be my assistant. I will pay you, of course. You see, I seem to be in the need of someone to carry my..." _Arian looked around for something to help. Technically, everything she carried at the moment was extremely light and she had absolutely no worry of being loaded down with anything. She had always been strong enough to shoulder her own burdens. Now, however, she needed to give Iachon something to do so she could find an excuse for him to stay with her without feeling like a nuisance. "_my..." _Looking down, she found the answer in her hands. "_My new bow!" _She grinned happily, smile hidden beneath her mask and hood.

Iachon seemed unconvinced that she needed any help, but wasn't in any position to argue. He didn't have anywhere else to go. Taking both her hands, he leaned his head over them and kissed them profusely. Because it was causing quite the seen, she pulled her hands back and reached up to pat him on the shoulder. If she wasn't extremely lucky, this boy was going to figure out she didn't quite have the man parts that she claimed to. Handing her bow to him, she gave him a few moments to collect his meager belongings.

_"Are you ready?" _She signed to him gently, intending to give him all the time he needed.

_"Yes!" _He signed back happily, smiling with enthusiasm. He looked as if he had just been relieved of an insurmountable weight. He looked to Arian as if she was the holy paragon of everything lovely, and followed her every movement with puppy eyes. She didn't believe that he suspected her true identity, but she had to be very careful or his man crush was going to progress into man love. Unfortunately, she wasn't a man.

_Maker_, she thought to herself. _W__hat have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

Arian and Iachon found Alistair a few minutes later, happily talking to a circle mage in the southern area of the Ostagar ruins. While the mage seemed very much riled up, the man named Alistair looked quite happy. A smile caressed his stubbly face, full lips turned up into a smile. White teeth were revealed under his mouth as he talked, and his hazel-brown eyes sparkled. His short, copper tinted hair caught the light, his skin turned golden as the dying sun came to rest on him. He was a tall man with wide shoulders and long limbs, but it was his aura that most caught Arian's attention.

Arian had to catch her breath before continuing to walk towards him, lungs suddenly deciding to no longer function properly. She found herself suddenly longing to be wrapped in his embrace, skin warmed by his touch, muscles relaxed by soft strokes. Somehow, he felt like home.

_Stop. Just stop. Your home is gone, your family is dead. Daydreaming won't bring them back, and this man certainly won't. _She mentally berated herself. She felt like a fool, wanting a stranger's embrace. Odds were that this man would turn her in for a handsome reward the moment he found out who she was. She couldn't allow that to happen. Reality dawned on her once again, and the light seemed to die a little from her surroundings. Good. She must have been losing her sanity to want this man badly enough for an ache to reform again in her chest. Perhaps she needed to fight more; that always helped.

"What is it _now?_ Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?" she heard the mage spat with annoyance as she walked up to join the pair, Iachon following her every movement with a passion. The mage's features were contorted into a scowling grimace; Arian felt sorry for the man. Whatever the reason, he was obviously extremely displeased.

"I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence." A deep, gentle voice answered him. Alistair was obviously enjoying the other's discomfort, but more in a way that said he thought it a humorous joke, not a base affront. Alistair's eyes met her, and he seemed to lose his train of thought as the mage spoke. Arian found herself again catching her breath as their eyes stayed locked.

"What her reverence desires is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens, by the king's order I might add!" the mage replied indignantly.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" Alistair asked, finally forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful eyes of the stranger. Odd to feel that another man's eyes were beautiful, but he felt it nonetheless. They were of the most enchanting blue, rimmed with a darker shade and interlaced with silver streaks. The stranger was a short, slim man who barely reached the tops of Alistair's shoulders. Reevaluating, Alistair would have been very surprised if the man actually did reach his shoulders; he might fall a few inches short. Alistair's interest was peaked at the man's appearance, as he was covered from top to bottom. A mask covered all of his features but his eyes, and he had a black cloak pulled up around his head. Two swords brushed against the man's hips as he walked, and Alistair thought he glimpsed a shining, silver dagger strapped to the man's thigh. Alistair was quite positive that this was the man he had observed give a pompous vendor man quite a beating. Suddenly, Alistair felt his heartbeat increase as his eyes locked with the man's once again. His blue orbs swam with mystery and danger; Alistair could have easily drowned in them. Those eyes seemed to pierce through his soul.

The short man was followed by a dark haired elf wielding a bow. The elf's long hair was braided back, braid falling across his somewhat slim shoulders to rest on his chest. His features were distinctly elven; a sharp, oval face was interrupted by full lips and round eyes. The elf was taller than the man, which was quite funny considering that Alistair was pretty sure the short man was a human. While extremely slim, the man didn't appear to have the structure of an elf; or maybe it was the eyes that caused him to think that way. While the man's eyes held trepidation and mistrust, cold evaluation and calculation, they didn't seem to contain fear. Because of the abuse they constantly endured, elves seemed to always have fear hidden behind their gaze.

Alistair heard the mage starting to talk again, and forced himself to draw his attention back to the present.

"I will not be harassed in this manner!" The mage said back to him, nose turned up in a sneer. For some reason, Alistair wished the mage would leave so he could talk to this stranger. The mysterious man had an aura of suffering about him, and Alistair suddenly wished that he could wrap the man in an embrace, holding him while he let out his sorrows.

_What the Void is wrong with me? Am I really thinking about tenderly embracing a man? You're not gay, Alistair! You like women, and you like cheese._

Alistair had never, ever, ever, ever been attracted to another man before, and he wasn't about to start. He must have been more lonely than he realized. He would have to talk to Duncan about this. While he wasn't exactly known for his promiscuous activities involving women, he had had his fair share of crushes before. He had even had his first kiss at the age of fourteen! In all technicality, he had been giving a young girl mouth to mouth, but same difference! He sometimes thought about that girl, and what had happened to her; he had never been able to find out though. He had been sent to the Chantry that very same day.

"Yes, because I am harassing you by delivering a message." Alistair said, suddenly very annoyed at the presence of the mage and the elf. He wanted to talk to this stranger alone, to find out everything there was to know about him; to spar with him, drink with him, share stories of conquests and women. Alistair didn't know who this man was or why he was there, but he wished that whatever the reason, he wouldn't leave Alistair's side. Maybe he would get lucky and this man would have to work with him in the future.

"Your glibness does you no credit." The mage replied, face once again set in a scowl.

"Here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you. The grumpy one!" Alistair replied sarcastically, earning a small chuckle from the blue-eyed man. It was a smooth laugh, rhythmical and soothing.

_Something is definitely wrong with me. _Alistair thought to himself.

"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, you fool!" The mage finally resigned, pushing against Alistair's chest in frustration. He barely moved. Arian thought that said chest looked very nice, and would probably emit a nice heat; perfect for snuggling into on a cold night..

_Stop it! _Arian mentally shouted at herself.

"You know," Alistair spoke to her, startling Arian from her mental debate. "One good thing about the blight is how it brings people together." Alistair said gently, causing her to wonder what exactly he was saying. Was he sarcastically saying that about the mage, or speaking about his meeting her? Her heart began to beat a little more quickly, and she easily blamed it on exhaustion. She was weird when she got tired.

"I know exactly what you mean." The blue-eyed man said, eyes meeting Alistair's from behind the hood. The blue orbs were fixed on him, and Alistair felt as if he could lose himself forever. Maker, he forgot what he was saying.

"It's like a party!" He said when he regained his composure. Trying to deflect the man's attention from the blush that Alistair could feel forming on his cheeks, he decided to reply with sarcasm; he was quite fluent in sarcasm, after all. "We could all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about." Alistair felt his gaze pulled towards the man's hands as he thought about what it would be like for their fingers to be interlocked. For some reason, those hands and eyes pulled at his memory, though he couldn't place why. "Wait, we haven't met, have we?" he asked. "I don't suppose you happen to be another mage." He couldn't help adding with a snort.

"Do not worry, I'm no mage. You must be Alistair." The blue eyed man said in a whimsical voice, higher than Alistair would have expected from a man. It wasn't quite womanly, but close. It was right on the line of androgynous, and Alistair wondered if the man was perhaps indeed an elf; they tended to speak in much higher frequencies.

"Why, yes I am. Were you sent to find me?" Alistair asked with surprise.

"Indeed. Duncan sent me to tell you that we have arrived." The man responded simply.

Alistair felt his heart drop through his chest at the words. If Duncan had sent him, that meant he was the newest recruit. The newest Grey Warden recruit. All Grey Warden recruits were obligated to commence the joining as soon as possible. The very, very dangerous joining. A lump formed without reason in Alistair's throat, causing him to clear it roughly. When he realized that he had been staring so long that the man's blonde eyebrow was now raised in a perfect arch, his mind scrambled to come up with a response.

"Duncan sent you? Then I suppose that makes you his newest recruit. Pleased to meet you. What was the name again?" Alistair murmured to himself.

"Arian." He replied simply. "Iachon." He added, gesturing at the elf following her. "He's... a friend of mine." At those words, Iachon's face lit up and a faint flush began creeping up his neck.

"Ah, right that was the name. You know, we almost met more than a se'nnight ago, but Duncan told me you were out hunting." He replied, proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver with the trepidation he was feeling.

"Out hunting?" This surprised Arian, as she was very much passed out and delirious with fever around that particular time.

"Yes, did he not tell you I dropped by in when you two stayed in the little town northwest of here? He sent me a letter say that you got held up helping out a young woman who had fallen out of a tree. " Alistair said, scratching his cheek, obviously quite perplexed with the explanation Duncan had given him. "Duncan told me that she had been in a coma for several days, so I brought him some supplies and reports. I never actually saw her," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "but I hear that she's a beauty. Too bad she didn't tag along, eh?" Alistair said, nudging Arian in the ribs.

"Ah, right. Too bad. Never met her, either." Arian said, shocked at what Duncan had done and failed to tell her about.

"Anyway," Alistair said, bringing himself back on topic. "as the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for the joining tomorrow." He seemed to sober at the mention of the joining which peaked Arian's curiosity. "So I'm curious..." Alistair continued. "Have you every actually faced a darkspawn before?"

"No. With the exception of drawings, I've yet to see one." Arian replied. "Have you?"

"Yes." Alistair said, voice low with the emotions that came with memories. "When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another." He shook his head, dispersing the memories. "Anyhow, whenever you're ready, let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's anxious to brief us. We won't be able to set off until dawn, but the sooner you prepare yourself for what is to come, the better."

"I do not fear what is to come." Arian said, voice firm and resolute. Somehow, Alistair believed it. He also had the feeling that Arian had seen so much in his lifetime that nothing short of being picked up in the mouth of the archdemon and dropped from a thousand feet would make him bat an eyelash. Such beautiful eyelashes he had; long and dark, they cast little shadows on his cheekbones as his eyes moved, seemingly assessing every possible outcome of every possible variable. Alistair would have to be wary of this man, he knew that, but somehow, he didn't want to be.

"Let's get a move on then." Alistair replied, walking down the stone stairs to the main area of the ruins.

Arian's reply was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. "I look forward to travelling with you." He said, eyes downcast and seemingly embarrassed that he had spoken such words.

Alistair felt an immediate blush climb to his cheeks, so he cleared his throat and quickly turned his head away, hoping that Arian wouldn't be able to see the red.

"That's, uh, certainly a switch! But.." Alistair replied quietly. "I look forward to travelling with you as well."

Arian and Iachon followed Alistair back to Duncan, Arian trying to conceal a smile the whole time. Alistair's neck and ears were bright red with embarrassment, and she absently wondered if it was her words that caused him to be so. For some reason, it made her happy to know she could have such an effect on him.

The fluttery feelings and happy moments were short lived, however. Just as the trio was settling into a comfortable silence and steady pace back to Duncan, a scrawny dark-haired man with a smooth, black goatee rushed by them, hotly pursued by a rather large, red-haired warrior. As the scrawny man passed by Arian, she noticed that he had a small coin purse in his hand; one that, by basic deduction, did not belong to him. The second thing she saw was his hand reaching out towards the coin purse currently attached to her belt. Sticking out her leg, she tripped the scrawny man, and he went flying across the stoned pathway, letting out a small groan as he landed.

Walking up to him, Arian extended her hand, obviously asking for the warrior's purse. The man gave it to her, mumbling something about it not being worth it. Arian peered inside, surprised that the thief would attempt to rob such a small amount of money. There couldn't have been more than two or three silvers worth of copper in there; certainly not enough to risk a hanging. By this time, the warrior had caught up, stopping to lean over with his hands on his knees.

"Than- thank you, frie- friend." The warrior panted through intakes of breath. "Slinky bastard stole my money! Call the guards, he deserves a hanging!" the warrior said, pointing accusingly at the thief still not bothering to get off the ground.

"Why?" Arian asked the thief, pointedly ignoring the warrior. It had taken one look at the warrior to guess that he was a sanctimonious hypocrite. Altruistic until it came down to true sacrifice.

"Because I'm starved, and that fat oaf obviously has already had enough to eat! I wouldn't have done it, but I don't exactly got too much of a choice here. Nobody's willing to help me, including him." The thief said from the ground, glaring up at the warrior.

From her right side, Arian could hear Alistair let out a large sigh. "Arian, allow me to introduce you to your future brothers-in-arms, Daveth and Jory. Men, please work out your sodding differences and meet us in the Grey Warden tent."

"Pleased to meet cha!" Daveth said from the ground as Rory nodded to her in a polite salute with a "How do you do?"

Feeling a migraine beginning to form, Arian reached down to give Daveth a hand off of the ground. In a spur of the moment decision, she reached into her leather coin purse, flipping Daveth a few silvers with a wink.

"What the Void was that? That little pipsqueak stole my money, and you give him yours as a reward?" Jory said with indignation and disgust.

"I did what I did not to reward him, but to ensure his survival. Perhaps you are blind, ser knight, but this man is obviously hungry." Turning to Daveth she took her sword, still sheathed, and with a single movement, raised up his tunic to reveal two sets of prominent ribs. "I find what he did to be the lesser of two evils. Doing what one must do to survive is understandable; intentionally ignoring someone's pleas for help when you are more than equipped to help them is detestable." Arian spoke with anger, eyes shining silver in the setting sun. Her words caused Jory to cast his eyes down in embarrassment, refusing to meet her righteous gaze. With a frown that rivaled her mother's, she flung the coin purse back to Jory, hitting him squarely in the chest. The second thing that she hated most of all was hypocrisy.

Daveth grinned his thanks at her, walking away with a swagger in his step and a whistling tune coming from his mouth. Jory sighed in resignation that his fellow would not be decapitated this day, and waved his goodbye to Alistair. Arian didn't fail to notice that he ignored her resolutely.

Alistair watched Arian as he reattached his sword to his leather belt, continuing on their previous path like he hadn't just done an amazing thing. Alistair closed his mouth when he realized that it had dropped open and followed Arian like an enamored puppy. Maker, have mercy on him. Why couldn't Arian have been a woman? Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Alistair took an extra breath to brace himself for future interactions. He would not allow himself to scare off Arian because the man feared Alistair would jump him in his sleep. Were any of his fellow Wardens to know the thoughts he was having of another man, he would die of the humiliation.

* * *

As the trio neared the Grey Warden tent, Alistair felt his heart increase in rhythm for a different matter entirely. While it hadn't been more than a few days, Alistair missed Duncan. He was the only father that Alistair had known. When Duncan came into his sights, Alistair rushed to him, embracing him in a quick hug. Duncan seemed tired, with dark-rimmed, red eyes and a slouched posture, but strong and healthy nonetheless. Come to think of it, Arian had the exact red eyes and posture; perhaps the two of them had endured more than he initially suspected in getting to Ostagar.

When Alistair released Duncan, Duncan turned to Arian, firmly grasping him by the hand and patting him on the back. Odd; it hadn't even been a few hours since the two had seen each other, but they seemed relieved to be in each other's company once again. Alistair would have been jealous if he hadn't immediately liked Arian. He had a feeling that he would be doing more to Arian if he had been separated from him.

_STOP. IT. _Alistair firmly told himself, intent on not letting his thoughts wander. Arian was a man; man. A very manly man, with manly parts and manly thoughts. And yet, Arian's aura was anything but manly; it was elegant, graceful, dangerous, mysterious, cold yet warm, frightening yet peaceful, and so many other unnameable things that he wanted to discover.

"You found Alistair, did you? Good. I was worried you had gotten sidetracked with a new-found desire to cure every problem within this campsite." Duncan said to Arian, eyes light and humorous.

"No, not all. Just the ones that run into me. What, I couldn't help it!" Arian said, grinning behind his mask as Duncan whacked him over the head gently. Talking with Duncan seemed to loosen the man's control and help him relax. His eyes twinkled like Duncan's, and Alistair was suddenly once again very jealous. He wished it was him that Arian was finding amusement in. Arian bent down as a dog came running up, quickly receiving a face full of slobber and a good tackle. The dog pinning Arian was the biggest, meanest looking Mabari he had ever seen, and here was Arian cuddling with the thing like it was a kitten! The more that Alistair saw of Arian, the further intrigued he became. Arian released himself from the dog's hold, patting him on the head with an affectionate gaze in his eyes. A few moments later, Daveth and Jory walked up, Daveth holding a half-eaten loaf of bread and a very contented smile. Jory looked quite displeased, sending Arian quite a few spine-chilling glares. Alistair worried that Arian would retaliate, knocking the man back on his arse before he could blink, but was relieved when Arian ignored the looks in favor of returning his attention to Duncan. Alistair was impressed by the man's self control.

"Good, you're all here. I'll assume you are ready to be briefed on beginning preparations. Assuming, of course, that you're quite done riling up mages, Alistair?" Duncan questioned him, face flat.

"What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me! The way that she wields guilt they should stick her in the army." Alistair said with a deep chuckle. His voice was magnificent; deep and low, Arian could imagine him whispering her real name to her while tracing patterns along her bare back...

_STOP. IT. _She told herself, praying to the Maker that no one could read her thoughts on her face.

"Forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us." Duncan said with a reprimanding tone in his voice. It reminded her of when her father would chastise her for being sassy, bring a small, mournful smile to her face. The hole beneath her heart seemed to grow in size from that one thought. She pushed the feelings aside, determined to deal with them later; and without company to witness it.

"I apologize, Duncan. Truly." Alistair said in his low voice, bowing slightly to Duncan in a show of apology.

"Now, then. We can begin." Duncan said, sitting down on a log and gesturing for the others to, as well. Arian sat down with Sam leaning against her legs, determined not to lose contact for too long. The dog had obviously missed her, and she had very much missed him. He had been inseparable from her since she had bonded with him as a puppy; when she left her castle to train, Sam had come with her through it all. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to scale the tower on his own, so Arian had to tie him securely onto her back. Needless to say, the journey down, with only bed sheets to cling to, was quite interesting. Trying to do it without noise was even worse. Iachon sat at her right, between the other two recruits. He apparently didn't trust them enough to allow Arian to sit next to them. It was flattering that he had a man crush on her, even though she wasn't actually a man so that man crush was reduced down to a crush (not that he needed to know that), but she could handle herself. Always had.

Alistair turned to find a spot, dismaying when he discovered that the only space available was the one directly to the left of Arian. While he didn't want to remain standing and make the man feel unwelcome, he also had no desire to sit next to a man that gave him fuzzy feelings just by staring at. He had to squish those feelings inside of him; they wouldn't get him anywhere. Not that he wanted to pursue them anyway. Arian was a man, after all. With manly parts, and manly thoughts, and... stuff. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. As he took his seat next to Arian, Alistair was determined not to let his thoughts show. He would have to fight alongside the man for Maker knew how many years, after all. He needed to learn how to control himself now. Instead, he let his thoughts wander to how marvelous a nice cheese dinner would be later on.

"Tomorrow, you four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks: the first will be to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit." Duncan said smoothly. Arian pondered the reason for the blood and what it meant. Surely they could have obtained their own vials of blood by now, which meant that it must have been to prove their merit in some way. Was that all the blood was for? Or did it have a more sinister use?

"Finally, some action!" Jory said with just a little too much force that left Arian thinking he wanted anything but to face a darkspawn. Something rubbed her the wrong way about the man; maybe it was because of his obvious posing. It got on every last one of her nerves.

"Without a doubt." Duncan said disapprovingly. "Darkspawn aren't renowned for their willingness in sharing their blood."

"And the second?" Arian asked without preamble. The more they talked and the less they did, the more uncomfortable she became.

"There was once a Grey Warden fortress in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It's recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if possible."

"Understood, Duncan." Arian and Alistair said in unison. Arian looked at him just as he looked at her, eyes meeting with their faces only inches away. The pair looked away as quickly as possible, avoiding each other's gaze. Duncan raised an eyebrow at Alistair questioningly when he saw the blush that had formed on his cheeks. While Alistair would have liked to blame the red on the heat from the campfire, he simply couldn't lie to himself. Alistair knew that it was the pair of blue eyes, glowing orange because of the light from the fire, that caused the blood to run to his face.

"What are these scrolls for?" Arian asked, always jumping straight to the point. She pointedly ignored Alistair, trying not to stare at his cutely blushing face and what it meant. Since when had she become such a girl?

"The scrolls contain treaties promising support... Treaties that may prove valuable in the days to come." Duncan said, eyes growing distant.

His words chilled Arian. If Duncan expected them to win this battle and obliterate the darkspawn, why did he want scrolls promising support? If there would be no war to fight, what good would soldiers be? The implications were more than unpleasant.

"Watch over your charges Alistair. Return quickly, and safely."

"We will." Alistair replied.

"Then may the maker watch over your path. I may see you at dawn before your departure, but that is unlikely. I will pray for your safe return. Iachon, you are welcome to share my tent tonight, or sleep outside of Arian's. Daveth, Jory: you two will be sharing a tent as usual. Alistair, Arian:" Duncan said, turning to the pair. "You two will be sharing a tent tonight as well. Alistair, please accommodate Arian accordingly, and know that he enjoys his privacy." Duncan's mouth turned up into a humorous smile; clearly, he was enjoying this. The words that came out of his mouth made Arian's stomach sink for several reasons. One, she had planned to use the darkness to slip out from camp and properly wash. Two, she didn't want, couldn't have, Alistair discovering her secret. Three, she knew her mother would be rolling around in her grave were she to spend the night in a man's tent. While she couldn't help it, and chastised herself for having such ridiculous thoughts, she had never spent the night with a man before, and was worried about how to approach it. Pushing such foolish trepidation to the back of her mind, she stood up from the log, nodding to Duncan.

"I'll be back." Is all she said as she grabbed her bow and some freshly made arrows from Iachon, quietly slipping away into the fast approaching darkness.

Alistair watched Arian as he went, admiring the stealthy way in which he walked. His small feet barely made any noise as they hit the cold stone, and his hips gently swayed back and forth. If Alistair had been in his right mind, he would have put his attraction, the small feet and hands, the slight stature and swaying hips, the delicate voice and beautiful eyes together to make the proper conclusion. As it was, Alistair still had Arian's sweet scent caressing his nose from their proximity, and couldn't have said which end of the sword was pointy.

Maker help them both.

* * *

Hope you guys liked it! Sorry for the late update, but I made it super long to make up for it. Speaking of which, do you guys want infrequent but long chapters, or regular and short chapter? Still open to any story suggestions! :) What do you guys think of Iachon? I decided that it was odd that your main character didn't have many close interactions with people who aren't one of your party members, so I thought I would change that! For the people who are confused over my he/she usage, I made it a "he" when it's from someone's perspective who doesn't know Arian's secret, and a "she" for those who do. Like, follow, share, comment, whatever pleases you! :)


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